


a waking life

by lilabut



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Mild Language, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Some Fluff, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-05-28 12:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15049394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: After Scarif, everything changes. After almost dying, after losing what she loves most, after leaving the past behind, Jyn finally learns what it means tolive.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first proper Rebelcaptain fic and I'm more than a bit nervous about it to be honest. I've been working on it for months and can't thank [stardust425](https://stardust425.tumblr.com/) enough for being such a supportive and encouraging beta! I hope you'll all enjoy this, it was definitely a lot of fun to write.
> 
> The title is taken from _Pluto_ by Sleeping At Last.

Still I’m pinned under the weight  
Of what I believed would keep me safe.  
So show me where my armor ends,  
Show me where my skin begins.

_Pluto_ , Sleeping At Last

 

Tears prickle in her eyes, sand whipping against overheated, sweat-slicked skin. It stings, and cuts through pale, bruised flesh.

 

Everything is so loud, her ears ache from it. The rumble of the shuttle's engine just a short distance away - still too far, much too far. The rush of her own blood pulsing madly through her veins. The roar of the approaching horizon, rolling up in flaming, bright light.

 

Beneath it all, she can hear the soldier aboard the shuttle hollering at them.

 

"Move!"

 

He's scrambling, eyes wide in terror, fear bleeding into restless energy as he balances his bruised body on the ramp.

 

"Get going!"

 

She can't. Every step across the unsteady sand sends a jolt of unbearable pain up her leg. Days worth of untreated cuts and bruises slow her down now. No matter how hard she tries, it feels as though the horizon is pulling her away from the hovering shuttle. Ready to turn her into ash.

 

It's almost tempting to just collapse, to let it happen. Almost.

 

Cassian groans, weighing three times more than he should as she drags him towards their only escape. Her body screams from the exertion. She can hardly support her own weight, much less his, as well.

 

"Jyn," he croaks, voice dry and lifeless already. A distant plea hidden behind the raw sound of her name. She knows what he's trying to say.

 

_Let me go. Save yourself. Leave me behind._

 

Furiously, she shakes her head.

 

"No," she hisses and grips him harder, ignoring the sickening sound of his pained moan. He's shattered inside, she knows. Maybe he won't live no matter how hard she tries.

 

But she has to try. He came back for her - she can not leave him behind.

 

"Come on," she pleads.

 

The shuttle is so close now. Like a mirage, blurring in front of her like melting wax.

 

"Now!" The soldier shouts, reaching out a hand. But he's not looking at them. He's staring up with panic at the sky beyond them. In his eyes, she sees the impossibly bright light reflected.

 

"Take him!"

 

Cassian is too weak to protest as she hauls him up, the soldier pulls him onto the ramp - there's a sickening crack as another bone gives in, followed by an agonized cry.

 

But Jyn doesn't hear it.

 

All she hears is the roar of the sky. All she feels is heat. Unbearable heat that crawls up her back. Her clothes start to melt off her back, as her hair turns to ash and her skin blisters.

 

Yet she feels nothing. She is only faintly aware of someone calling her name. A weak, brittle, and pitiful sound. Of hands curling around her arms. Of her body lurching forward and crashing into hard metal.

 

The unbearable stench of burning flesh and singed hair, though, fills her nostrils until she throws up. Heaving and suffocating, the air turning to ash on her tongue.

 

\- - - - -

 

_the little girl laughs as she moves through the field of flowers. brightly colored and delicately shaped petals, grass as soft as feathers growing tall enough to nearly hide her away._

 

_she dances. up, up, up the hill, twirling._

 

_dark hair flutters in the breeze - the air carries the scent of salt._

 

_her dress is the shade of the night sky, fibers of silver woven delicately into the fabric. shimmering as they catch the sunlight._

 

_stardust._

 

\- - - - -

 

Waking up is slow and laborious at first. Fuzzy dreams melt into the harsh, clinical white of reality. Soothing warmth turns into unbearable heat. The flutter of a mild breeze turns into stabbing pain in every fiber of her body.

 

She's being torn apart and being dragged back down. Sleep is merciful and painless. Slowly, her consciousness ebbs and flows until eventually, she jolts awake so harshly and so quickly as if someone had poured a bucket of frigid water over her head.

 

Her eyes are wide open and yet, for a frightful moment, everything is blindingly white.

 

_I am dead,_ she thinks at first, but no. She'd find more peace, more rest, more comfort if she was.

 

_I am blind,_ she thinks next, blinking furiously in an attempt to force her eyes back into function.

 

It works, because slowly, the white turns softer, and shapes begin to emerge. Lights blink around her in reds and greens and blues.

 

She tries to breathe, release a sigh that's been building but she can't - something holds her back.

 

Panic surges through her when she feels the pressure in her throat, the fullness of her mouth, tubes and wires tied to her, filling her, breathing for her. She wants to reach up and tear it all away but she can't move, not even an inch, without pain shooting through her body that would make her scream if only she could, if only a sound would pass her lips. Any sound.

 

Suddenly, there's movement around her. Dark shapes shifting that she can't distinguish. Metallic voices speaking and yet she understands nothing over the rush of blood in her ears and the rapid fire beating of her own heart. It drowns out everything else.

 

All except one thing.

 

_Cassian._

 

If she's alive, then he must be too. He has to be. Has to be here somewhere, wherever _here_ is.

 

She wants to ask about him, tries to form his name but not even a whisper escapes her and all it does instead is burn her throat.

 

The metallic taste of blood in her mouth makes her eyes water.

 

_Cassian,_ she thinks - shouting at the top of her lungs inside of her mind as something pierces her arm.

 

A second later, her heart slows down to a steady _thud thud thud_. Images of Cassian fade, her eyes growing heavy until eventually, the blinding white is replaced by a black as deep as space.

  


When she wakes again, the tubes are gone, but so is her voice. Desperately, she tries to force the words out but all that escapes her cracked lips is a sickening, throaty and unintelligible sound.

 

Medical droids attempt to calm her down, but all she sees are their lifeless faces, and too many blinking lights that blur in front of her eyes.

 

It takes her two days before she can finally, finally force her body to cooperate.

 

"Cassian," she croaks, barely audible but the droid lingers. A syringe ready with more medication, numbing her to the pain even though she feels like bacta has already soaked into every willing cell of her body. "Ca- Captain... Andor."

 

The needle pierces her skin but she doesn't feel the pain of it any more.

 

"The Captain is recovering," the droid replies, voice stoic and echoing as darkness pulls her under again. Perhaps it's only real in her mind, she wonders for a moment, but she'll take the comfort and let it keep her strong enough to breathe for another day.

 

He's alive.

 

\- - - - -

 

_the little girl stops at the slope of a hill. bends down to pick a flower - round petals in a joyous shade of yellow._

 

_a smile paints her face as she tucks it behind her ear. she turns and smiles even brighter._

 

_"come on, papa!" she calls, voice as sweet as the first birdsong after a long, bleak winter, reaching out a small hand. "hurry!"_

 

_a seashell bracelet dangles from a small wrist. shimmering._

 

\- - - - -

 

It's gone. The Death Star is gone.

 

Mon Mothma tells her so, sitting in a wire chair by her sickbed, hands folded against her white robes.

 

She wears their victory with poise and grace but beneath all that, Jyn catches the darkness in the woman's hollow cheeks and the dullness of her eyes - eyes she remembers being sharper the last time she saw her.

 

It's really gone.

 

But in this moment, Jyn can't yet allow herself to feel joy or gratefulness about this - about her father's dying wish coming true.

 

"Where's Cassian?" she asks instead, throat still raw, her voice strangled and foreign, hardly her own. It's like the smoke she inhaled, the ash that colored her lungs black, is still there, forever burned into her flesh.

 

Mon Mothma smiles, sad and weak. Fading too quickly from her lips. The kindness in her features remains, but it bears too much resemblance to pity.

 

"He is recovering," she answers. The same answer she'd received before but it means more now than it did then. Now she knows it's real.

 

Jyn takes a shuddering breath, feels some tension easing from her body. "Will he be all right?"

 

A pause, loaded, too long.

 

Then, Mon Mothma nods.

 

"You are both expected to make a fine recovery."

 

Strapped to this bed - helpless, useless - Jyn almost wants to laugh. Her wounds might heal, raw skin turning to scar tissue over time. But nothing will ever go back to the way it once was. She's not yet sure whether that is good or bad. She's not sure Cassian feels much different right now.

 

"The others?" she whispers then, a question she has been avoiding because she fears she already knows the answer. Mon Mothma's features turn pale, eyes flickering down towards her lap for a brief moment. Her mask crumbles.

 

Gently, she shakes her head.

 

"I'm afraid you and Captain Andor were the only ones rescued."

 

Even though she knew, deep down, that this was the truth, Jyn suddenly feels cold. Tears sting in her eyes that she blinks away and she's grateful that Mon Mothma chooses that moment to rise to her feet and smooth out her robes.

 

It's merciful.

 

"I am so sorry," she offers, not waiting for any sort of reply before quietly exiting the room.

 

The medical droid waiting nearby is the only one to witness Jyn's silent tears.

  


 

A princess pays her a visit the next day - two days later, three days, Jyn has no idea how much time has truly passed. Leia.

 

She carries herself with the same grace and authority as Mon Mothma, but there's something else that burns through her brown eyes. Fire and determination that has little poise and restraint.

 

Jyn might like the other woman, she thinks as she listens - if only she had room for that.

 

Pain keeps her awake in spite of her exhaustion as Leia thanks her for her efforts to retrieve the Death Star plans. The sincerity in her voice is almost tempting, but Jyn only nods because there's little else she can force her uncooperative body to do.

 

"I know you need time to heal," Leia says with concern laced into her carefully chosen words, "but I would very much like to offer you a place here, among us, if you should chose to stay. You've proven valuable to the cause."

 

The cause.

 

In her mind, Cassian's voice echoes. Desperate for his life, for his deeds - good and bad - to _mean_ something.

 

Even now, Jyn isn't certain she feels the same way. Yet, for the time being, she's trapped here with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide, until her body has healed and her strength returned.

 

"If I decline?" she murmurs, every single word a strenuous effort.

 

Leia purses her lips for the briefest second.

 

"I believe you were offered freedom in return for your efforts. That promise still stands, of course."

 

Princess Leia is unhappy with the question and its implications, the fire in her eyes sparkling bright.

 

Yes, Jyn could like her very much.

 

  


She's given a medal for her part in the Death Star's destruction which she doesn't want. It sits on her bedside table, mocking her whenever she turns her head and sees the silver sparkling in the bright lights of the med bay.

 

If she could - if she had the strength - she'd toss it across the room and watch it shatter. But she can hardly lift her arm enough to hold a cup of water without collapsing.

 

Her body is betraying her and anger boils furiously in her blood.

 

\- - - - -

 

It's not until they are being moved to Hoth that she's fully briefed on everything that transpired after Scarif.

 

The lost plans. Alderaan. The Jedi. The Princess' role. The boy named Luke Skywalker, and the battle in the sky.

 

She is numb to it all.

 

There's no room inside her to allow herself to feel any of it. To mourn the millions of lives lost. Not when all she has room for in her heart are Saw and her father, Chirrut and Baze and Bodhi and even K2. Cassian.

 

She's full of grief and there's no more room. No more.

 

The cave is closing in on her with every ashen breath she takes. Closer and closer until she can hardly breathe at all.

 

\- - - - -

 

Her head feels cold, exposed where her hair once was. She still vaguely remembers the stench as it burned away on the beach on Scarif, quick as lightning.

 

What little of it remained has been cut down, just barely enough to not make her bald. There are no mirrors to show her her own reflection, and she's too weak to reach up and run her fingers through the debris.

 

It's a ridiculous thought, but the loss makes her feel more vulnerable. As if the long strands of brown hair could ever have been a shield.

 

It'll grow back, she tells herself.

 

The burned flesh on her back will heal, she reminds herself.

 

Just a few more scars, they don't matter, she convinces herself.

 

It's a farce, and all night long, she blinks away persistent tears.

 

She's tired of healing, of fighting, of telling herself that she's strong enough and that her losses don't matter.

 

They do.

 

They matter.

 

All alone in the cold bed with nothing to see but the stark white ceiling and nothing to inhale but the sour, clean stench of bacta that lingers, she doesn't want to be strong any more.

 

\- - - - -

 

He looks so frail, she thinks as Cassian enters her room, cheeks hollow, eyes lined with dark shadows. Skin pale and his posture hunched even in the wheelchair he's sitting in. His arm and shoulder are in a tight sling.

 

She'd think this was a dream if he didn't look so broken. In her dreams, she likes to imagine him whole and unscathed.

 

His body is betraying him as much as her own, leaving just a shadow of the man she remembers.

 

He sends the medical droid that had accompanied him away with a harsh command, but says no more after that. He stays still, halfway across the room, so far away.

 

After all this time of craving to see him, Jyn doesn't know what to say.

 

"The others-" she croaks after a minute of silence, and Cassian nods before she can say anything else. His face is somber, his jaw tense.

 

Pushing a button on the wheelchair's control panel, he crosses the room. A soft hum, her own ragged breathing. Then he's right there next to her and _Force_ , Jyn wishes she could sit up or reach out to him to make sure that at least he is real rather than a cruel figment of her imagination.

 

But she can't, not yet, not on her own. Whatever progress the droids and medics keep promising her, it is slow and barely noticeable.

 

"Just you and me," Cassian murmurs, the words burning as much as the licking flames on Scarif had. In his eyes, there's the aftermath of a storm. Raging seas and roaring fires reduced to foam and glimmering ashes. There's fatigue that goes deep, so deep that it's rooted down to the very core of him. "You saved me."

 

She half expected him to be upset about it, to tell her that it was wrong, that she shouldn't have done it. That she must never do it again. To shout at her, seethe, to speak as harshly, as honestly, as he had after Eadu.

 

He must want to, she thinks as she hears the timbre of his voice, but he doesn't have the strength.

 

"You came back for me," she breathes, brows raised just a little.

 

And he did. On Jedha. On Eadu. On Scarif. Again and again he came back for her when he didn't have to, when it seemed impossible, foolish even. He had risked his own life each time.

 

The corner of his lips twitches into a twisted, disfigured smile that tries hard to be tender but dies on its first breath.

 

Slowly, almost achingly so, he reaches out and runs his calloused fingers through the delicate wisps of hair that barely cover her head.

 

A part of her wants to curl up with insecurity even though she's never been a vain person.

 

"I know it looked nicer long," she says hoarsely, as if it matters at all.

 

A sad smile curls Cassian's lips.

 

"No, I like it," he admits quietly, the words settling warm and fuzzy in the pit of her stomach. "It looks pretty."

 

The pads of his fingers ghost across her forehead, her temple, her scalp. Cautiously. Tenderly.

 

Jyn sighs.

 

She's never been touched like this. With so much tenderness, such revelry. And yet with so much sadness laced between the layers of their skin, into every crease of Cassian's face.

 

The moment feels intimate in a way that tints Jyn's cheeks a slight shade of pink - the shade of a sun setting over a calm sea. More intimate than when he'd leaned on her in the elevator on Scarif, eyes full of awe. When the thought of kissing him had been as persistent and bittersweet as the desire for more time.

 

She leans into his touch now, too fragile to dismiss the comfort it provides.

 

If only he didn't look so guilty.

  


 

It's a miracle that he came after her on Scarif. That, after he fell, he rose back up with the sole intent of finding her, that he dragged his shattered body up onto the tower.

 

Impossible.

 

Chirrut might have believed the Force gave him the strength when his body could not. And perhaps, Jyn wonders, he would have been right.

 

When Cassian tells her about the extent of his injuries, she feels sick, feels clueless and helpless and wants to reach out to touch him. As if the brush of her hand on his hollow cheek alone could mend his broken bones, take away the metal that now lines his spine, give him the strength to stand that the rods in his legs can not.

 

"They don't know if I'll ever walk again," he admits, eyes fixed on the wall above her head. He might be a good spy, but he can not hide the tremble of fear in his quiet words or the way he chokes on his breath. "Not on my own, at least."

 

She wants to say something so badly. Anything to reassure him, give him hope. But every word she knows falls flat and would go to waste between them.

 

Instead, she lifts her weak arm, hovers near his knee just long enough for him to grab her hand. When his fingers lace with hers again, it feels like coming home.

 

\- - - - -

 

Hoth is overcrowded, bursting at the seams with soldiers, commanders, pilots, and refugees that have come to join the Alliance because now more than ever the time has come to take a stand.

 

Jyn doesn't see much past the four walls of the room that might as well be her cell, because her body is chaining her to it, but she is well aware of what happens anyway. Can hear the commotion in the hallway whenever the door opens. Catching glimpses of the crowd passing by.

 

She didn't spend enough time on Yavin 4 to know if it was the same then. Or if things have changed since... Since.

 

It barely takes more than a few days before she's no longer alone, before she's told that rooms are becoming scarce. She only half listens, dismisses the cautious but stern words of the medic. It's not like she has a choice here after all.

 

She all but whimpers in relief when Cassian, rather than a stranger, is brought in. His bed is barely more than an arm's length away from hers. It would be almost pathetically easy to reach across and rest her hand against his arm. But it isn't. Nothing is easy any more, never has been.

 

He gives her a weak smile but says little on the first day. They're not alone. The man in the bed furthest away from her, however, is a sorry sight. Pale as a sheet, veins prominent and dark, his cheeks hollow. Wires and tubes cradle him like a net.

 

He hasn't woken in weeks after his ship was hit with a grenade, Cassian tells her.

 

She doesn't know the man's name.

 

She doesn't want to learn it.

  


 

Cassian doesn't sleep at night, she comes to realize that quickly. Her own body refuses sleep as well, too afraid of what might wait for her in the darkness beyond. But she's defenseless against the exhaustion and the pain and the relentless fog of the medication flowing through her veins.

 

Tonight, she listens to Cassian's every breath, her own lungs adapting to the pattern. Still rattling and sore and she wonders if she'll breathe freely again.

 

_I wish the others had lived_ , she wants to say. Instead, she squeezes her eyes shut, stars shining behind closed lids from the strain of it.

 

_Why are_ we _still here?_ she wants to ask. Instead she grinds her teeth, digs her nails into the flesh of her own palms until the pain dulls her thoughts.

 

She thinks of the nameless man across the room. Machines breathing for him. Mind oblivious to everything around him.

 

It's a mercy, she thinks, before she's pulled under.

  


 

In the dark, she hears Chirrut. _I am one with the Force and the Force is with me. With me. With me._ The echo fades. Grows distant.

 

She screams but he doesn't reply.

 

Bodhi is on fire, flames licking his skin. _I was afraid,_ he tells her, eyes blackened as he crumbles to ash. _I wanted to do the right thing._

 

She's all alone on a beach, barefoot against the shards of glass where sand should be. Salty water laps at her bleeding toes, burning the skin and it smells so bad, makes her eyes water.

 

_Little sister._

 

She turns and there's Baze. Alone. Eyes empty. So empty. Then he's gone. She tries to stumble after him but falls. She can't move.

 

The wind carries sour air that burns in her lungs, makes her dizzy. Somewhere, she can hear a voice that's both familiar and yet so, so far away. A distant memory.

 

_My stardust._

 

_No,_ she hisses, dragging herself away, away, away but the voice follows.

 

_Jyn._

 

_No,_ she repeats, tastes the salt of her own tears as they burn on her cracked lips. She doesn't want to hear it, doesn't want to hear _them_ , see _them_.

 

"Jyn!"

 

Louder now. Different.

 

The sound almost makes her curious.

 

"Jyn!"

 

Her eyes shoot open and still there's mostly darkness. Beneath her, the mattress feels damp with sweat, the bandages on her back sticking to her raw skin.

 

There's warmth against her wrist. Milky white light from the machines illuminate only silhouettes but when she looks down, it's Cassian's hand that's curled delicately around her wrist.

 

"I saw-" she gasps, her guard down for a moment before she comes to her senses and bites back what she meant to say. Already, details of the dream are slipping through her fingers like sand, fading from her memory.

 

Cassian sighs, draws his thumb across her pulse point before pulling back his hand.

 

"I know."

  


 

Cassian is quiet. Stoic, almost. Just as defeated by his own body's decay as she is, but slowly, over time, things change.

 

They talk. Mindless and trivial things. Nothing that carries painful memories - but they both find themselves in heavy silence when they realize they know so few stories that don't carry an echo, an afterthought of pain.

 

He laughs once. The sound almost startles her. Not because she didn't expect her little tease to evoke such a response, but because it's... different. It sounds so good, so precious coming from him.

 

She smiles. He holds her gaze until they're both quiet again.

 

  


Attachment is not something Jyn ever risks. Since the day her mother died, since the day the man in white took her father, she avoided it.

 

She doesn't grow roots, she doesn't settle down. Saw taught her that. Taught her to keep on her feet, to be cautious, not to trust easily and not to tie herself to anyone for the wrong reasons.

 

When he, too, left her behind, she realized it only hurt as much as it did because she hadn't heeded his advice. She'd felt attachment to the man she saw as a second father. Felt at home with him, and with the Partisans.

 

She swore to herself then never to make the same mistake again.

 

Sitting upright in bed with her legs folded beneath her, playing a never ending, dull game of cards with Cassian on a fold out table squeezed between their beds, she realizes with a start that she's growing attached to this.

 

To him. His company, the sound of his voice, the variety of expressions on his face. Waking up to find him up in bed, reading on his datapad. Sharing half his meal because Force, he hates those little red fruits they serve for dessert, only ever scrapes the small amount of custard out of the bowl and leaves the rest behind.

 

"They're vile," he insisted one day when she plucked his discarded bowl from his bedside table.

 

She'd rolled her eyes at him, tossed one lush fruit into her mouth. It's almost easy to forget how heavy she feels when he looks at her the way he did then. Half a grin hidden in his gaze before he shied away.

 

"Jyn?"

 

She's shaken out of her thoughts, swallowing as she looks up from the cards in her hand. A useless batch.

 

Cassian's brows are furrowed. "Are you all right?"

 

She's not. None of this is all right.

 

In the end, it can only cause more pain.

 

Instead of saying that, of admitting how afraid she is of losing him, she forces a smile.

 

She doesn't say a word.

  


 

The man dies in his endless sleep. The rapid, almost panicked beeping of the machines wakes her, her heart pounding as she sits up in bed too quickly. Pain rippling down the length of her her back.

 

There's a commotion as medics and droids rush in. Trying to save him. The light that's suddenly switched on is blinding, making her eyes water even as she meets Cassian's somber gaze.

 

When they give up on the man, declare him dead, it's a relief, she thinks. Deep down, she almost envies him.

 

Almost.

 

\- - - - -

 

A month later, she is back on her feet. Taking determined but unsteady steps through the ice covered corridors of Hoth. Each step pulls at the scar tissue that covers her back, painful tears welling in her eyes that she swallows back down with gritted teeth.

 

The wheelchair everybody keeps offering her stands lonely in the corner of the room. Mocking her.

 

It would help, would allow her to move further away from her sick bed than a handful of steps down the icy corridor. Even now, her legs aren't really _taking_ her anywhere.

 

But she refuses it again and again, bites her tongue instead and pushes through until the unbearable pain fades into a persistent but far away ache.

  


 

She's there the day Cassian takes his first steps. Leans against the wall of their room with a smile curling her lips as he stumbles forward with the assistance of two droids.

 

Sweat already pearls on his brow and he looks defeated when he collapses onto his knees after just three wobbly steps.

 

But she has never felt more proud.

 

Kneeling down in front of him, she curls an eager hand around his upper arm until he's forced to look at her.

 

"I can't-," he starts, but the words die on his tongue, evaporating into a sigh.

 

Jyn softly shakes her head.

 

"You will."

 

  


He does.

 

A month later he's released from the med bay. Just two days after her. Those two days she spends alone in the tiny room assigned to her are the longest of her life.

 

Four walls that close in on her, the cold seeping into the marrow of her bones, deep, deep and deeper until she can feel nothing else. There's only a bunk bed she luckily does not have to share with anyone right now, a small bedside table and a few shelves on the wall. Scarce space for belongings she does not have.

 

It's like the cave all over again.

 

For the first time since waking up after Scarif, the thought of running away tastes sweeter than the thought of staying here.

 

  


Cassian is released at his own demand, she finds out later. The medics were reluctant, still weary about his recovery - and yet, at the same time, there's little they can do for him anymore. His body will never fully heal from the fall he took, and only time will tell how much progress is still in the cards for him.

 

But in the med bay, he's been withering away more and more with each day that passed too slowly. No matter how weak he still is, there's freedom in being out. Freedom to move.

 

When he's given the room next door to hers, Jyn tries to ignore the flutter in her chest.

 

"Looks like we're neighbors," she quips as nonchalantly as she can manage, leaning against the corridor wall with her arms folded across her chest. Cassian is fiddling with the control panel of his door, trying to reset the entry code.

 

His steps are still measured and slow and he's breathing hard just from carrying his small bag all the way here. But there's a healthy flush to his cheeks as well.

 

When he looks up at her, something is shimmering in his eyes.

 

"I know."

 

A group of soldiers walks past them, talking loud and enthusiastically, pushing through the narrow corridor. Jyn waits for them to pass, brows furrowed.

 

She wonders, for a moment, if Cassian requested the room or if it's merely a coincidence. He could have, he's a much higher ranking member of the Alliance and much more respected than she is. But would he? And why?

 

When the last soldier has rounded the corner and a stiff droid has walked past them with each step echoing off the frozen walls, Jyn smiles.

 

She doesn't ask him.

 

Instead, she leans in closer.

 

"Welcome home."

 

The way his breath hitches and the slight flush of his cheeks darkens beneath the shadow of his beard is almost too much for her to endure. Too much like the fragile glass of a dream that is ready to crack and shatter, leaving only shards at her feet to weep over. Nothing remaining of the beauty of such a simple moment.


	2. part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely feedback on the first chapter! It's always a bit nerve-wracking to join a new fandom, so I appreciate all your kind words so much ❤

Like water rounding the roughest stones, time seems to heal their wounds.

  
  
On the surface, at least.

  
  
Only on the surface.

  
  
Scars smooth out more and more each day. And slowly, oh so slowly, Jyn watches her hair grow back.

  
  
There's comfort in watching it grow long enough to curl ever so slightly around her ears in an unfamiliar way. Long enough to run her fingers through it and feel more than just her scalp.

  
  
_Pretty_.

  
  
She can still hear Cassian speak the word as she takes in the sight of herself in the mirror. Misty from her shower, smoothing out all her harsh lines.

  
  
It's not a word she has ever associated with herself. Appearance was never something she gave a second thought about. She knew how to use her body to her advantage, yes. Had to learn that much too early. But it was never about feeling... good in her own skin. Never about feeling pretty.

  
  
Now, as she runs her fingers along the bridge of her nose and the round of her lips, down the arch of her throat, past the crystal that rests between her small breasts, she wonders.

  
  
Wonders what she looks like through Cassian's eyes. If he sees the paleness of her skin as ivory, if he finds beauty in the mossy green of her eyes. If he'd linger on the pale, ragged scars that are mapped out across her body - countless stories she'll never tell - and if he'd cherish them.

  
  
He's beautiful. The thought had overwhelmed her back on Scarif, hitting her out of nowhere but there'd been no time to dwell on it then. Now, whenever she looks at him, it echoes in the back of her mind.

  
  
The dark of his hair, the warmth of his eyes, the width of his shoulders, the sharpness of his jaw, the way he towers over her, the touch of his hands.

  
  
Never before has she looked at another person and found beauty in them.

  
  
Staring back at herself, she turns just slightly, sees only a fraction of the carnage on her back. Skin that has melted off the bone, that has been blistered and charred. Grown back crippled and raw. There's no beauty in it.

  
  
She mutters a curse, and turns away from her reflection.

  
  
  
  
Later that day, Cassian smiles at her from across the table in the mess. There's no reason for it, no words exchanged that might have prompted it.

  
  
It just is.

  
  
Soft and almost shy. So freely given.

  
  
That easily, it makes her feel beautiful, even just for a fleeting second before he ducks his head. Breaking the spell.

  
  
\- - - - -

  
  
The first time it happens, it's a coincidence.

  
  
The second time, it prompts a shy, quick laughter that's tinged with a sadness they're too proud to acknowledge.

  
  
After that, they seek each other out on purpose.

  
  
  
  
Jyn comes to the hangar night after night when sleep evades her. Her body exhausted, but her mind too restless to find calm, too afraid of what awaits her beyond. All alone in the cage of her room, she feels like she's suffocating.

  
  
The hangar is large enough to not make her feel caged in. It's quiet this time of night, but never the deafening type of silence that is painfully loud. There's always the hum of machines and the bustle and tinkering of late night repairs.

  
  
An illusion of security. When she finds Cassian there one night, sitting against a stack of crates and staring into the darkness, she's not surprised.

  
  
  
  
Night after night, they sit shoulder to shoulder. She can only imagine his own reasonings, but she never dares to ask.

  
  
  
  
"I miss him."

  
  
Cassian's voice cuts through the silence. Perched on a few crates, the two of them watch the darkness beyond, filled only with the blinking lights of a few shuttles and a handful of droids still at work, knowing no fatigue. Jyn turns to him, watches the flush in his cheeks from the cold.

  
  
"Kay," he adds. Pausing. Twirling the wrench in his hand over and over before tossing it into the toolbox below. "I know it's silly, he was just a droid-"

  
  
"It's not," she interrupts him before he can belittle his own grief. "He was your friend." Even for her, the memories of K2 are accompanied by a stabbing pain in her chest. He gave his life for them, no matter the technicalities of how _alive_ a droid can truly be. No matter how big their differences were before that sacrifice.

  
  
He never liked or approved of her, she's sure of that. But every now and then, when she says something, she almost waits for a dry, cynical comment to follow her words.

  
  
But it never comes.

  
  
And never will again.

  
  
Cassian's gaze turns distant, brown eyes cold in the dim light. "He was-" he starts, kneading his gloved hands in his lap. There are a few tears in the dark fabric, patched up here and there like most of his clothes. Spotless from a distance but a mess of little tears and cracks up close.

  
  
He chokes on what he wants to say, dropping the matter as if it wasn't important.

  
  
"I know," Jyn breathes, smiling almost fondly at the few memories she has of Kay. She rests a hand on Cassian's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Through the thick lining of his coat, he probably can't feel a thing.

  
  
A gust of cold air hits them, probably from a door sliding open somewhere nearby, and it crawls under each layer of fabric until Jyn can't hold back a violent shudder.

  
  
"You're cold," Cassian states, eyeing her from the crown of her head to the tips of her boots for a moment.

  
  
She scoffs. "It's always cold here."

  
  
By now, she should have gotten used to it, but it's persistent and extreme and her body craves the balmy warmth of a summer breeze or even the suffocating vice of humidity.

  
  
For a moment, Cassian remains quiet. Nodding ever so slightly. Then, he holds out his arm, the movement rustling in the quiet. "Come here."

  
  
It's a bold offer, one she almost instantly refuses because this is not what she does, not what they are. Every other touch they shared before had been a culmination of events, fears, thrills. Never this. Never a question. Never a conscious decision.

  
  
It frightens Jyn when she realizes how badly she doesn't want to refuse. In the few seconds it takes her to make up her mind, Cassian's courage already seems to wither away. His brows furrow just slightly, his arm lowering again.

  
  
With a sigh, she scoots closer to him, presses herself into his side. His arm wraps around her easily, melding against the shape of her back so perfectly that she marvels at it for a moment.

  
  
Like they were meant to be locked together like this.

  
  
Against her chest, her mother's kyber crystal pulses.

  
  
Slowly, Cassian draws his hand up and down the length of her arm, and Jyn rests her head against his shoulder. Cushioned by his thick coat, it takes the strain from her neck. Somehow, she feels warm all over. It washes over her in waves like water lapping at the shore.

  
  
With every breath they take - at first erratic, then calm, then in unison - Jyn feels the weight of her fatigue settling in her bones. It pulls at her eyelids until they flutter shut. Just for a moment, she tells herself, nuzzling a little closer into the warmth that Cassian provides.

  
  
Faintly, she feels the pressure of his chin when he rests it against the crown of her head. Vibrations hum against her skull when he speaks, low and almost inaudible. Words meant for her and yet not, cloaked in a language she doesn't understand.

  
  
She's too tired to ask him to translate. Too afraid of what he's clearly not brave enough to tell her outright.

  
  
Still, even though she doesn't understand, she can feel the meaning that renders every single word soft, molten around the edges, a silently desperate confession neither of them is ready for.

  
  
\- - - - -

  
  
She waits for him in the hangar, watching the air turn to mist in front of her face. Barely enough to warm her cheeks and lips for even a second before the bite of the cold takes over.

  
  
He's not here, but he should have been here by now. Again and again, her eyes wander to the dark corridor at the far end of the hangar. Waiting for the sound of his heavy, limping steps.

  
  
Yet the only sound tearing through the silence is the ripple of her own damned cough.

  
  
Eventually, she gives up waiting. Allows herself to make excuses for him in her mind as she walks back to her room. After all, he's not obligated to spend every night here with her, freezing, wasting away when what they both truly need is rest.

  
  
Passing his door, Jyn slows her steps. Feels that familiar pulsing ache deep in her chest but she shakes it off, doesn't want it. Just as her fingers reach out to open her own door, she hears it.

  
  
A gasp. A groan. Pained. Frightened.

  
  
Familiar.

  
  
Her hand trembles as she enters the code for his room, hard enough for her to nearly miss the correct buttons. But then it slides open and she hurries inside, her breath stuck in her throat.

  
  
It closes behind her with a quiet swish, bathing her in darkness for a moment. Too slowly, her eyes adjust, the milky glow of the lights lining the ceiling just enough to guide her way to the bed.

  
  
Cassian is restless, hands fisting the stark white sheets as his body fights whatever horror dominates his dreams. Face contorted with pain, sweat pearling on his brows. Again, he grunts, back arching off the bed and even through the haze of his dream he gasps in pain.

  
  
"Cassian," Jyn murmurs, falling to her knees by the side of his bed and ignoring the sharp pain the impact sends through her body. She reaches out, rests a hand on his shoulder. "Wake up."

  
  
Almost instantly, his eyes shoot open and he sits up, teeth grinding at the pain he undoubtedly feels.

  
  
For a moment, he's disoriented, gulping down air as if he'd been drowning just a second ago, looking frantically and unfocused around the room until his eyes settle on her.

  
  
"Jyn."

  
  
She nods, gives his arm a light squeeze to let him know she is here, that she is real. But even then he looks at her as if he's still dreaming - no longer a nightmare but something softer. Something hopeful that lights up his eyes for the briefest moment before pain takes over again.

  
  
With a frown, he hunches his shoulders, suddenly tense all over and clutching the sheets until the white of his knuckles presses through the skin.

  
  
"Lay down," Jyn says softly, leaning up enough to gently steer him back down. The mattress is too hard, too cold, but it's all they have. Cassian follows without protest, sinking into the pillow and releasing a long exhale.

  
  
"Thank you," he rasps, his fingers finding her wrist and encircling it lightly. A ghost of a touch, the very opposite of the many chains she's been forced into all her life.

  
  
Nothing about the way he makes her feel is like anything she has ever known.

  
  
Perhaps it's a sense of curiosity, perhaps it's that ache she cannot seem to shake entirely that drives her as she sits down on the edge of the bed. Being close to him should make her weary and cautious but it does the opposite. Since Scarif, it has offered her only comfort and warmth.

  
  
"I still have them, too," she admits, running her fingertips over his temple and through the soft strands of his hair. It only makes her mourn her own more. "All the time."

  
  
She should be afraid to tell him this, to touch him. Afraid to let him in. Afraid that he might push her away. Torn between both options, her fingers linger against his slightly overheated skin.

  
  
The grip on her wrist tightens just barely, a small tug that almost goes unnoticed. An invitation. An offer she did not expect and cannot refuse.

 

  
When she pulls down the zipper of her thick coat, the sound is almost obscenely loud in the small room, barely large enough to hold the bed, a small desk and chair, and a private refresher. She places the coat on the desk, leans down to rid herself off her shoes - shuddering as her socked feet press into the cold ground.

  
  
The cold alone is enough to encourage her and she ignores just how quickly her heart beats as she climbs into bed next to Cassian. He lifts the comforter for her and she moves in close, sighing with relief as the warmth wraps all around her.

  
  
The sheets rustle as Cassian turns onto his side to face her, eyes curious and dark. Too close for her to take. Faintly, she remembers the elevator on Scarif, the way he'd looked at her then - half hidden in darkness as he is now.

  
  
She turns around to face away from him, seeing nothing but the silhouettes of his room. Then, she moves. Scoots backwards just enough to let him know that it's all right. Almost instantly, his hand finds her waist, slides around her front as he moves closer. The warmth of his body radiating against her back. Instantly, Jyn's eyes flutter shut.

  
  
"Will you stay?" he whispers, his breath warm against her neck. Tiny hairs rise in response, a shiver runs down her spine that he misinterprets - she's not cold. Still, he edges closer, draws his arm tighter around her until she can feel nothing but him. Like a cocoon, he wraps around her, crawls under her skin and in the dark beneath her closed eyelids, Jyn can see the fire that used to burn inside of her.

  
  
Only embers remain of it now.

  
  
He's not asking whether she'll stay in his room, in his bed, in his embrace.

  
  
"Do you want me to?"

  
  
Her hand rests upon his, flat against her stomach. A question laced into the gentle brush of her thumb across his knuckles.

  
  
For a long moment, he is silent. Nothing fills the room except for their even breathing, even the beating of her heart loud enough to make her flinch.

  
  
Then, he nods.

  
  
"Of course I want that, Jyn."

  
  
He breathes the words like they are obvious, and maybe they are. But not to her. Hearing them makes her breath hitch in her throat, and when Cassian's lips ghost over the base of her scalp in something so light and tender she doesn't dare call it a kiss, she almost can't breathe.

  
  
Sleep claims them quickly after that. Bodies still too exhausted for their minds to keep them awake much longer.

  
  
In Cassian's arms, Jyn sleeps much easier than she has in weeks. Months. Perhaps easier and more peaceful than she has since those blurry, elusive days of childhood.

  
  
  
  
When her fist hovers over the door to his room the next evening, Jyn hesitates.

  
  
The pull to be near him is persistent, almost too strong to resist and she wants to give into her selfish desire to be with him. Yet, deep down, fear pulses with every beat of her heart.

  
  
Fear to get too close, to care too deeply.

  
  
She doesn't get the chance to knock. While a tempest still roars in her mind, the door is pulled open, Cassian's eyes surprised and yet calm as he sees her.

  
  
Silently, she steps past him.

  
  
Slips into his bed, into his arms.

  
  
She already cares too deeply, she realizes as he cradles her to his chest.

  
  
_I'm already lost._

  
  
\- - - - -

  
  
_Will you stay?_

  
  
The question echoes in her mind as if Cassian branded it onto her skin with his lips. It quickens her heartbeat, dampens her palms, quivers in her stomach.

  
  
There is no moment of clarity. No conscious decision. She simply has nowhere else to go - that's what she tells herself. And although there's a grain of truth to it, she's not foolish enough to believe her own lie entirely.

  
  
She's not just staying because it's her only true option.

  
  
There are many reasons, piling up inside of her and threatening to burst from every crack that has appeared in the walls surrounding her over the years.

  
  
Her father's sacrifice.

  
  
Saw's passion.

  
  
Cassian's cold reasoning.

  
  
The sacrifice of everyone she inspired to go to Scarif, to their deaths.

  
  
The passion that's suddenly alight in her own veins.

  
  
The reasonings she can no longer ignore. For years, she kept her head down, blinded herself to the world around her.

  
  
_It's not a problem if you don't look up._

  
  
She will not make that mistake again.

  
  
  
  
She'll stay. Of course she'll stay. Deep down, she has known it for so long. Long before Cassian even asked her. Long before there was ever the chance. Perhaps all the way back to that day he chose to believe her.

  
  
_Welcome home_ , he'd told her.

  
  
Perhaps that's when she made her choice.

  
  
There is, however, a moment when Cassian realizes she chose to stay.

  
  
They are sitting in the mess, most of the others already back at work. Just a handful of people remain, hunched over their food.

  
  
Jyn sighs as she scrapes the last few purple peas off her plate, well aware of the frown she's wearing. Force, how she loathes these peas. The bitterness, the sandy texture, the fact they have them almost every damn day.

  
  
Cassian barely hides a chuckle over a cup of caf.

  
  
"Don't laugh at me," Jyn spits, narrowing her eyes at him. "This shouldn't be called food. Shara told me she overheard Bre saying there's a shipment of cloudberries coming in next week." Her mouth salivates just at the thought. Tossing her fork back onto her empty plate, she leans back in her chair. "I can't wait for that."

  
  
She didn't exactly expect any kind of response from Cassian. It was just a passing comment. No question, no joke, no argument. Not remotely as exciting as the prospect of bursting sweet fruit appeared to her.

  
  
But he grows very still. Sets down his cup and looks at her with such intensity that it's almost enough to make her uncomfortable.

  
  
The realization that flickers in his eyes tells her enough. His low, deep voice when he speaks only confirms that.

  
  
"You're staying," he murmurs. Not a question, and still Jyn nods in response.

  
  
There's no hesitation from Cassian when he reaches across the table and rests his hand on top of her own. A gentle squeeze. A silent _thank you_.

  
  
It's almost too tempting to turn her hand around and allow her fingers to slip in between his.

  
  
Nobody would notice.

  
  
Nobody would care.

  
  
But she ponders the idea too long, tastes it on the tip of her tongue until Cassian pulls his hand away. The smile that curls his lips, light and full of hope, remains.

  
  
\- - - - -

 

Cautious fingers ghost up and down the length of her back, from her shoulder blades down her spine and to her tailbone. Spreading the cooling lotion over aggravated, marred skin.

  
  
She can't apply it by herself, frustrating as that is, and she's grown tired of heading into the med bay every day to let a droid help her with it.

  
  
Asking Cassian, however, had cost her more courage than she anticipated. He hadn't denied her. Of course had hadn't.

  
  
But he's too quiet as he works diligently yet tenderly, not an inch of her skin neglected.

  
  
Seeing the carnage for the first time has stunned him.

  
  
"It doesn't hurt anymore," she tells him to fill the silence, to ease the guilt she can feel like a wall between them. It's only the half-truth. It doesn't hurt - except when she moves or showers or pulls on her clothes. The tug of muscles, the heat of water, the friction of fabric, all feels like more flames are licking at her vulnerable skin.

  
  
"This," Cassian starts, then trails off into silence once more. The flat of his palm rests between her shoulder blades, gentle enough not to cause irritation and yet every inch of skin he touches pulses. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't-"

  
  
"Do you wish I hadn't?" Jyn asks, sitting up from where she'd been leaning over the back of a chair and twisting her torso enough to look at him. Her shirt clutched to her front, just barely hiding her from his view. She wonders if it would make a difference if she dropped it and bared herself to him.

  
  
The question is heavier than she intended it to be. After all these months, Cassian still walks unsteadily some days, still frowns with pain on others. They lost everyone else that day on the beach. Wouldn't death have been kinder for them both?

  
  
Cassian looks up at her.

  
  
"I wish it hadn't cost you so much," he breathes, his hand sliding up over the round of her shoulder until it rests against her cheek.

  
  
Her body tilts into his touch without her command, eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment. He's so close now, close enough for her to smell the last remnants of bacta and the sharp scent of the bodywash he'd used earlier.

  
  
She remembers a day when he smelled like an imperial officer.

  
  
This, she thinks, is so much better.

  
  
"It didn't cost me anything."

  
  
She means it. She would have given her whole body to save his life, would have run herself into the ground instead of running away and surrendering.

  
  
But he doesn't believe her, not quite. It's why instead of leaning in closer, he pulls away with a sigh. Against his will, there's no denying that. Evident in the way his eyes flickered briefly down to her lips.

  
  
Now, his gaze is cast down towards his lap instead.

  
  
“Of course it did.“

  
  
\- - - - -

  
  
The council is reluctant to clear Cassian for active duty, wary of his injuries and the progress of his recovery. But he fights for it, withering away in the confines of his quarters with nothing to do but wait and watch others fight for their cause.

  
  
Jyn knows he needs it. Or that he _thinks_ he does. Still, the thought of him out there makes her hold him tighter at night.

  
  
Eventually, just like she feared, the council gives in. He's one of their best men, indispensable to the cause they all value so much. It's a simple mission they assign him to, way below his skill set, really, but Cassian doesn't complain. There seems to be renewed spirit in him as he gets ready, as he packs his bag and tells her goodbye.

  
  
A week. Then she'll see him again.

  
  
There's no grand gesture as he steps out of his room, leaving her behind. Just a brush of his fingers against the back of her hand and a soft _see you soon_ and then the door closes behind him.

  
  
  
  
Two days later, she's assigned her very first mission. Infiltration of an imperial facility connected to the Imperial Academy on Mandalore with a small crew she barely knows.

  
  
Draven eyes her with spite as she boards the shuttle, and she feels uneasy as they lift off. The endless white of Hoth grows small beneath them until it's replaced by the unflinching blue of hyperspace.

  
  
  
  
She returns a few days after Cassian does. He waits for her in the hangar as she walks down the ramp, adrenaline still pumping through her veins because the mission had been a success, exhilarating.

  
  
Seeing him there among a few others only quickens her steps until she's right in front of him. His smile sparks in the cold, but he moves awkwardly - like there's something he wants to do but can't bring himself to. Like he's at war with himself.

  
  
"You're back," he says instead, fingers twitching against his thighs.

  
  
She grins.

  
  
"So are you."

  
  
  
  
It's not until they step into his room hours later that he cracks. The door has barely closed behind them before his arms are around her, crushing her to him.

  
  
Jyn, taken aback, gasps in surprise and stiffens for a moment. But all too quickly, she melts into his embrace, wrapping her own arms around Cassian's shoulders.

  
  
"You weren't here when I got back," he murmurs into the crook of her neck, fingers curling tightly into the coarse fabric of her coat. "I thought-"

  
  
A heavy weight settles deep in her stomach.

  
  
He thought, probably only for a few terrifying minutes, that she had left the Alliance behind after all.

  
  
That she had left _him_ behind.

  
  
The thought never occurred to her until now. It's the last thing she would want him to think.

  
  
She pulls back, instantly feeling the cold of Hoth creeping into the empty space between them. Intent to tell him that she's going to stay, that she's done running.

  
  
Something else spills from her lips instead as she looks up at him, hands laced behind his neck.

  
  
"I missed you," she admits, something she didn't even want to admit to herself but it's the truth. No matter how gratifying her mission had been, thoughts of Cassian were never far away. A constant worry pulsing inside her chest. At night, she barely found a moment of rest.

  
  
He exhales, the heavy features of his face growing soft. Lines carved by time and anger are smoothed out as he leans down and presses his forehead to hers.

  
  
"I missed you, too," he whispers, his breath mingling with hers. In the echo of his words, however, she can hear her own and suddenly they feel like a vice around her heart.

  
  
They're too much, too heavy, and she regrets saying them. Too quickly, she pulls away from Cassian and takes a step back, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  
  
"I have to-" she starts, but she doesn't know what to say, how to explain, when everything inside of her is a turmoil she can't control. "I can't-"

  
  
She turns on her heels and rushes out of the room. Running.

  
  
It's always been so easy to run.

  
  
  
  
He gives her space. Doesn't push.

  
  
But the next day she finds him in one of the empty community rooms, leaning over his datapad until he hears the thud of her steps. Like gravity, she's drawn to him.

  
  
She slides down onto the empty bench next to him.

  
  
No apology passes her lips and Cassian never demands one. He just makes more room for her, offers her what's left of his caf.

  
  
She takes it. Just a sip. Watches as he scrolls through pages and pages of information in silence.

  
  
_I missed you too._

  
  
His words echo in her mind. Again and again.

  
  
She doesn't want to run anymore.

  
  
But she doesn't know how to grow roots. How to settle. After all, she never learned how.


	3. part three

Eight months after the Death Star is destroyed, Cassian is assigned on a solo mission to some godforsaken planet in the Outer Rim she's never even heard of.

  
  
It's a routine mission.

  
  
Three days. A meeting with a contact.

  
  
Sneak in, collect intel, head back out.

  
  
Something he has done a hundred times before. Something he _knows_ how to do.

  
  
He's overeager, restless for days in advance. Nervous energy bounces off him and in turn makes Jyn feel uneasy. It's only his second mission after Scarif, and as impressive as his recovery has been, she knows the secret aches he refuses to acknowledge.

  
  
It's not like it was before. He's different.

  
  
And things between them have changed too much over the last few months for her to simply wave him goodbye without her limbs feeling heavy as lead and a sense of dread filling her, weighing her down.

 

  
  
  
  
The night before he's scheduled to leave, Jyn waits in the hangar for him the way she has done so many times. It's completely deserted there, nothing but the hum of machinery and the nervous tapping of her foot against an empty crate filling the silence.

  
  
When he finally walks up to her, he hands her a steaming mug of tea. "Thought you might enjoy this," he says with one of those boyish smiles, the ones that crinkle his eyes. The ones she's never seen him offer to anyone but her.

  
  
Jyn nods, takes the mug from him. Cursing the gloves she wears when their fingers brush uselessly against each other.

  
  
It's far from the best tea she's ever had. The leafs have been dried too long and have lost most of their spicy flavor. But it warms her from the inside, warms her fingers through the thickness of her gloves.

  
  
"When do you leave tomorrow?" she asks, not quite able to hide the tremor in her voice.

  
  
Cassian turns to her, hands flat on the crate, fingertips no more than an inch away from grazing the outside of her thigh. "Before dawn," he replies. Short and to the point. He doesn't seem as enthusiastic anymore.

  
  
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Jyn nods. She's tempted to take another sip of tea just to have something to do, but she's afraid she won't be able to keep it down. Dawn. So soon. Only a few more hours and then...

  
  
"Are you all right?" Cassian's question cuts through the silence, his head tilted to look at her no matter how hard she fights it. "You seem... tense."

  
  
She had hoped it wouldn't be quite so obvious, but not for the first time in the past few months, her body is betraying her. It's as if being around Cassian makes her more vulnerable, peeling away all the layers and veils and iron-forged masks beneath until only she remains.

  
  
"I- I'm worried," she admits quietly, staring down into the dark liquid in her mug, the steam that billows from it almost fascinating. "About you." There's so much truth to the words that she can hardly believe she spoke them at all, surprised when they slip easily from her tongue.

  
  
"You shouldn't be," Cassian replies, sounding as stoic and professional as he had the first time they met. "It's not-"

  
  
"Don't lie and say it's not dangerous," she interrupts him, louder and with more fire than she intended. But even just the notion that he's trying to ease her mind and tell half-truths causes anger to foam in her veins. His eyes are widened in surprise when she looks up at him. Sucking in a deep breath. "It is. It always is," she insists.  


 

She sets down the mug, instantly feeling her hands grow cold. "Just- please don't lie to me," she finishes, weak and quiet and so full of despair that she'd curse herself if only she had the strength.

  
  
Strength to pretend.

  
  
"Okay," Cassian says, brows furrowed. Then, softer, just a whisper. "Okay. I'll be careful, I will be."

  
  
Her eyes burn. Vision blurring as she blinks away persistent tears that are threatening to spill over and leave behind a treacherous trail down her cheeks.

  
  
Before she can over think it, before she allows her own fears to hold her back, she takes his hand in a tight grip.

  
  
"Come back," she pleads on a heavy exhale. "Please."

  
  
His eyes flicker down to their joined hands, still separated by their gloves and yet he squeezes back, just enough for a spark to shoot through her fingers. "Jyn-" he chokes, and she wonders why he's suddenly so close.

  
  
Why his shoulder is pressing into hers and she can smell the clean scent of his soap and the warmth beneath that is purely him.

  
  
His breath is damp against her skin, a little too quick and shallow.

  
  
"I need...," Jyn murmurs, all insecurity and fear wrapped in so much want and desire. "Cassian, I-"

  
  
His free hand comes to rest against the side of her neck, silencing her. She shivers as the cold of his gloves burns against her skin, but the gentle circles he draws with his thumb are too distracting and feel too good to pull away.

  
  
Force, she doesn't want to pull away. Not now. Not ever again.

  
  
"Jyn."

 

It's a plea and a question all in one. The tip of his nose nudges ever so gently against her own. Her heart leaps in her chest, every nerve ending in her body quivering as she breaches what little space remains between them.

  
  
His lips are soft but cold against her own, brushing as light as a feather. Something almost too delicate to be called a kiss.

  
  
Jyn sighs against him, eyes fluttering shut. She leans into him, into the cradle of his arms and for the first time, it feels like the world is falling into place.

  
  
It barely lasts more than a few seconds before Cassian pulls away and rests his forehead against hers. Still close enough for his lips to ghost over hers in the echo of a kiss when he breathes her name.

  
  
"Please come back," Jyn whispers, hating herself for asking something so selfish from him. But there's been so much loss this last year, so much pain and she's so tired of it all. Now that she's finally found a home, she can't bear the thought of it all being torn away from her again. "Please."

  
  
He nods but it's not enough. Deft fingers curl into his shoulders, demanding more.

  
  
When he speaks again, the vibrations of his voice flutter through her veins, his lips seeking another barely there kiss from her.

  
  
"I promise."

 

  
  
  
She sleeps alone in her room that night, uneasy and barely more than a few minutes at a time. The thought of spending this night with Cassian had been too tempting, something she dismissed before the idea could fully form.

  
  
Neither of them is naive enough not to know what would happen - driven by their impending goodbye and months of fleeting touches that built up. This isn't how she wants it to happen.

  
  
Before dawn, she hears the slide of his door opening outside. Closing again. The echo of his boots.

  
  
He promised, she tells herself, squeezing her eyes shut as her temples throb violently.

  
  
He promised.

  
  
But promises are so easily broken.

 

  
  
  
  
The day he's supposed to return, Jyn checks the arrivals on her datapad every other minute. Glancing at it even as Draven briefs her on a mission to Coruscant they've been planning for months.

  
  
She'll do well there. Blend right in.

  
  
But between the handful of arrivals, she doesn't spot Cassian.

  
  
It's fine, she tells herself. There are countless delays he might have run into along the way.

  
  
That night, she sleeps restlessly. Tosses and turns under the layers of blankets and still the cold of Hoth crawls beneath her skin without mercy.

  
  
Hours before dawn, she wanders into the hangar, watches her breath cloud in front of her cracked, dry lips.

 

 

  
He doesn't arrive the next day, either. His com link is down, Draven tells her when she inquires. He's quick to brush off more questions, though. Dislikes her to the bone like he has from the moment they first met.

  
  
Another night passes, the hours dragging on and on until she crawls out of bed again, bones aching and darkness circling her swollen eyes.  


 

  
  
A week later, there's still no sign of him. No messages, no way to locate him or trace his steps. It's like he disappeared.

  
  
"He has to be in trouble," she says, breathless as she keeps up with Draven marching down one of the endless, white corridors. "We have to find him."

  
  
She has five more days until she leaves for Coruscant, more than enough time.

  
  
But Draven stops in his tracks, turns on his heels to face her. He's towering over her, eyes sharp and cold.

  
  
"You will stay put," he hisses, keeping his voice down as a few members of the maintenance crew pass them, eyeing them curiously.

  
  
Draven waits, watches them disappear around a corner before he speaks again.

  
  
"Captain Andor knows what he is doing. Going after him will compromise the mission and-"

  
  
"What if something happened?" Jyn interrupts, fingers trembling and her stomach twisting painfully.

  
  
She hasn't eaten in two days.

  
Hasn't slept either.

  
  
Every time she closes her eyes, she sees him. In pain. Alone. Trapped.

  
  
Dead.

 

But she pushes those thoughts away, locks them down deep.

  
  
Draven takes a step closer, his expression somber.

  
  
"If anything went wrong," he says quietly but with authority, "then there is nothing to be done."

  
Her brows furrow, lips parting, ready to counter the general. But he's quicker.

  
  
"If anyone found out who he really is, then he's dead. If he's not dead, then he had to dig deeper. And what happens if we go after him then?"

  
  
It's a rhetorical question and Jyn remains quiet. The cold she suddenly feels has little to do with the ice surrounding them.

  
  
She knows what it would mean.

  
  
She'd put him in danger.

  
  
Draven looks almost pleased.

  
  
"And if he was captured... Captain Andor is under strict orders. He'd know what to do then. He knows the procedure."

  
  
Jyn stares at the man, so calm and collected when inside herself, a storm rages.

  
  
Orders.

  
  
The tiny, blue pill tucked away in Cassian's coat.

  
  
The only way to escape torture. The only way to truly protect the secrets of the Alliance.

  
  
If he was captured...

  
  
If he was captured, then he's dead.

  
  
"Now, I believe we understand each other, Sergeant."

  
  
For a moment, Jyn hesitates, reluctant to oblige the man and resign Cassian to his fate.

  
  
But, as much as she loathes to admit it, Draven isn't wrong.

  
  
Every muscle in her body aches, protests, as she nods.

 

 

  
  
She returns from Coruscant a month later with a fresh blaster wound in her shoulder, weeping and aching.

  
  
Cassian still hasn't returned.

 

 

  
Two weeks later, when she can take the sling off her arm and move her shoulder without any pain again, the council officially presumes Cassian dead.

 

  
  
  
  
At night, when she wanders into the hangar, she passes the wall of remembrance. His picture is up there, glowing against the ice.

  
  
Still, she refuses to believe he's gone.

  
  
\- - - - -

  
  
_sandals lay abandoned in white sand, small footprints leading away and away - the breeze blending them into the shore until they all but disappear._

_  
  
salty water foams as small waves break - again and again. the rush of it a constant, comforting hum. _

_  
  
the little girl laughs, splashing through the water, the hem of her dress soaked. white stains begin to form where the sun is drying the blue fabric. _

_  
_   
_"papa, look!" she calls, lips parted in wonder as a pink and orange bird flies past them so closely she can almost reach out and touch him._

  
  
_almost._

  
  
\- - - - -

  
  
In the palm of Jyn’s hand, the crystal almost glows. Bathed in the darkness of the hangar.

  
  
Her breath is nothing but white clouds as the kyber pulses against her skin.

  
  
With eyes closed, she hopes. Tries to believe the way her mother had done. The way Chirrut had done.

  
  
_The strongest stars have hearts of kyber._

  
  
Stardust, her father had called her.

  
  
Now, more than ever, she needs to be strong.

 

 

  
Night after night she waits, breath silent and limbs frozen with the merciless cold air of Hoth.

 

  
  
  
  
During the day, she wears the necklace between her breasts the way it's always been - warm and solid.

  
  
She hopes and hopes, forces herself to believe but nothing ever changes.  
  
  
  
The Force won't bring Cassian back. The Force won't show her the way, won't shape a place for her to fit into now that he's gone and she's left behind.

 

 

 

Someone new moves into the room next door – into Cassian's room. It feels wrong, makes her fingers curl into fists. Rationally, she knows that space is scarce and it's a waste to keep the room empty as a shrine for a man who will never return.

 

“He asked for it, you know?” Kes Dameron tells her one day as he walks her back to her room after training. They're not friends, she weighs that word too cautiously. But she respects him, trusts him enough for his words to startle her.

 

“What?”

 

Kes looks down at his boots with a frown that's deep and permanent.

 

“Andor. He asked for this room.”

 

He walks away then with a nod and a smile that weeps pity.

 

Jyn leans against the white wall, the cold of it like needles on her skin. She almost wishes Kes had never told her.

  
  
\- - - - - -

  
  
The next mission Jyn is scheduled for sends her to the Outer Rim. A simple extraction - she's given a name, an old hologram as guidance. There's very little explanation as to why it matters but she doesn't ask.

  
  
Not this time.

  
  
The job is done quickly, efficiently. She takes no chances, driven by a single-minded focus to finish her assignment with a few days to spare before she's scheduled to return to Hoth.

 

It's only after that things fall apart. Her pilot is killed, his throat cut by a cloaked figure in a back alley and Jyn barely gets away. Her legs scream at her as she runs and runs until finally she reaches the shuttle.

 

The droid waiting for her startles, something she didn't even know they were capable of.

 

“We have to leave,” she hisses, clutching her aching ribs. “Now!”

  
  
She can still hear the pilot's sputtering last breath, can still see the panic in his eyes. Is that what happened to Cassian, she wonders, staring into the blackness of space.   


Instead of heading straight back to the base, she orders the droid to land on Cathar instead. He argues and tells her it's off course and a violation of orders and for a moment her lips purse into a smile - Kay would have said the same thing. Would have given her grief beyond measure for being so reckless.

 

But her smile fades quickly.

  
  
In the end, he's helpless against her orders and gives in with a rattling sound that resembles a defeated sigh.

  
  
It's a shit hole of a place. People are riddled by poverty. The guerrilla group running the largest town is violent and merciless - perhaps more so than the stormtroopers sent in by the Empire to handle the situation.

  
  
Nothing's being handled. Children cry in worn clothes, flesh stretched taut and hollow over little bones. Blood stains the streets, the stench of burning flesh ever present.

  
  
It takes Jyn three days just to locate the source Cassian was supposed to meet, cautious questions and observations paving her way.

  
  
In the end, all that's left for her is to find out that the man Cassian had traveled the galaxy to find has been dead for well over a year.

  
  
Whatever happened here, it couldn't have been a simple mission gone astray. But there's little else to uncover without giving herself away, secrets buried under meters of broken bones around the city walls.

  
  
She returns, alone, to Hoth.  


 

  
  
Every mission after that is the same. She loses herself in them, but she doesn't feel the spark she did before, that flicker of hope that finally had become palpable to her.

  


 

Now, it's a dying flame that she stubbornly keeps burning.

  
  
Each time, she returns alone.

  
  
Each time, the cold bites her skin more.

  
  
\- - - - -

 

  
The thought of leaving the Alliance tastes bittersweet. She's lived hidden from the shadow of the Empire all her life - she can do it again. She can find comfort in being oblivious, she tries to convince herself.

  
  
The cause she's fighting for now... It's not enough. It's a home she sought all these years and she found it here for a while. Now, it slowly crumbles away, no more than dust that settles around her.

  
  
Something holds her back whenever she ghosts her fingers over the straps of her pack. What few belongings she owns would be easily packed away. There'd be little effort in cutting ties.

  
  
But she can't.

  
  
Cutting ties would mean giving up hope entirely. Hope that Cassian is still out there somewhere. It's a foolish hope, she is well aware of that. She would laugh bitterly at herself if only she could.

  
  
It's been a year. If he's not back now, he will never be.

  
  
Abandoning the cause he dedicated his life for - likely _gave_ his life for - is a betrayal she's not ready to commit. What fight he began, she can finish it in his stead. That's what drives her forward. What makes her work hard and long, what makes her volunteer for more missions than most others.

  
  
Her father dedicated the last years of his life to help bring down the Empire. Saw raised her to do the same. Chirrut. Bodhi. Baze. K2. They gave their lives for a chance at peace. Cassian made her see beyond all she thought she knew.

  
  
But without him, all she holds are loose strings and shattered hopes. What if's piling up in her mind night after night after night until months turn into years.

  
  
A part of her wants to belong. Wants it to mean something when she sits with the other soldiers and captains and sergeants in the mess, laughs at their jokes, mourns them when they do not return.

  
  
But the part of her that did, that fit in like a puzzle piece and felt at home... Cassian took that with him.

  
  
Without that, she's merely a ghost.

  
  
\- - - - -

  
  
Her tears taste of salt as she looks up at the night sky. It seems to glow with the remnants of the second Death Star, flickering with thousands of glimpses of hope.

  
  
Joy. Relief. It's what she should feel. And she does, deep down beneath the hollow ache that fills her instead.

  
  
All at once, everything has fallen into place and shifted out of focus for her. The fight she clung to these past years will slowly give away to peace. The names of its heroes will fade into memory. The dust will settle as the flames did.

  
  
What does she have left without it?

  
  
Almost angrily, she wipes her tears away.

  
  
For a moment, she turns her head, imagining Cassian by her side. Smiling up at the sky, all the weight lifted off his shoulder, wearing triumph and victory like a glowing light.

  
  
She hasn't allowed herself to think of him in so long. And yet she can still picture him with such clarity that she almost believes her own mind's tricks.

  
  
More tears spill over, and she's defenseless against them. She mourns him now more than she ever dared to before because he more than most should have had the chance to live to see this moment of glory.

  
  
Instead, he died, all alone, in some sorry, forsaken corner of the galaxy not knowing how much he meant. To them. To her.

 

  
  
  
  
When Leia offers her a place among the Alliance to assist with establishing peace in the debris left behind by the Empire, she declines before the princess has finished talking.

  
  
"But-"

  
  
"Thank you," Jyn says, as softly and with as much gratitude as she can manage. She offers no explanation, simply turns around and heads towards the archway that heads out of the council room, driven by a resolution that brings little satisfaction.

  
  
Someone follows her, quick steps against the stone floor. The gentle touch of a hand on her shoulder stops Jyn.

  
  
"Captain Erso."

  
  
It never sounds right, and Jyn feels herself shivering despite the humid heat.

  
  
It's Mon Mothma who is facing her, lips curled into a sad sort of smile that cracks the ivory mask the woman wears with so much grace.

  
  
"I will not change my mind."

  
  
A gentle nod. "I know. I told you once that I wouldn't forget what we did to you. I haven't. You have done more for us than you realize and I'd like to thank you for that."

  
  
The words sound sincere enough to fill Jyn with a heavy feeling of dread, of farewell. Her flight instinct kicks in, desperate to save herself from the heaviness of the moment.

  
  
"He would have been proud," Mon Mothma calls after her, halting Jyn's steps. When she turns, the woman stands like a glowing light in the deserted hallway, and for the first time Jyn realize how deep the lines on her face have become. "Captain Andor. He would have been proud of you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, please don't hate me too much. There's a happy ending waiting here somewhere. Lurking in the shadows. I promise *runs and hides for now*


	4. part four

_If I am wrong, and you left the Rebellion and Saw behind but this message still finds you? You make me no less proud, Jyn. If you found a place in the galaxy untouched by war - a quiet life, maybe with a family - if you're_ happy _, Jyn, then that's more than enough._  
  
Her father's words haunt her, still branded into her memory even years after she saw the flickering hologram of a broken man she barely recognized.  
  
The taste of his words had been promising even then, opening a window in her mind that she had never thought to even take a glimpse at before. But the time has come where she can't fight the temptation of it anymore.  
  
She wonders, day in and day out, what peace, and happiness and true contentment, might feel, taste, and sound like. It's that curiosity paired with the overwhelming fatigue of battle that finally drives her away from the Alliance, from the people she has come to consider her friends, perhaps even the family she never truly had after her own was torn from her.  
  
Perhaps it's foolish to believe she can find what her father had imagined for her out there in the war torn galaxy, but she's willing to make an effort, to at least try.  
  
After all, what else is there left for her to do?  
  
  
  
When the Alliance offers her credits as compensation for all the work she has done, her first instinct is to decline. It feels wrong to take money for deeds that have already been paid. With blood, lives, and a part of her soul she'll never get back.  
  
But what she craves is the fresh start she was promised all those years ago, and what she needs for that are the means to make it happen.  
  
It feels selfish to accept it. Almost like a betrayal to everyone who has given their lives to the cause and will never see the other side of the storm.  
  
  
  
The small planet she chooses doesn't seem to have changed at all since she was last here. Saw sent her there once on a brief mission when she was barely fourteen, young but already far from innocent.  
  
He'd made sure of that.  
  
It's remote and hardly the size of a moon, unimportant in the grand scheme of things which, mercifully, left it relatively untouched by the dark hand of the Empire. They had never taken much interest in it, nobody had.  
  
Except her. She has fond memories of the brief time she spent here, of the warmth and the sweetness of the air. The sapphire dark water of the oceans lapping at cream colored beaches, framed by sloping hills blanketed in the most colorful flowers she has ever seen.  
  
There are small villages and settlements along the many coast lines, self-sufficient and untouched by the wheels of time. Wooden houses that open up to the sea, the smell of salt lingering in the air, the white crystals crusting on docks and walls and the cobblestone roads.  
  
Quiet, almost deafeningly so.  
  
Further inland, there are a few merchant towns, colorful and bustling, rich with the sound of accents from all over the galaxy and the scent of spices, meat and fruit.  
  
Brick walls tower around the narrow alleyways and tucked away courtyards. The distant hums of shuttles lifting off and speeders racing along the city walls are just a forgettable hum.  
  
  
  
The money she so reluctantly accepted is enough for her to rent a small apartment in an alleyway just off the main market square. There's only one room, a refresher barely big enough to take two steps in, and a view above the rooftops of the town that makes her feel free as a bird.  
  
The horizon is a perfect powder shade of blue except for morning and evening when the sun sets it aflame in dusty rose and vibrant orange.  
  
What little furniture she accumulates over her first few weeks is well worn, chipped and cracked and carries as many stories as the infinite amount of scars on her body.  
  
The bed frame she got was painted blue once, paint peeking out underneath a coat of dark brown. The small kitchen she squeezed into a far corner, no more than a stove and refrigerator next to the stained sink that was already there. A table she doesn't use to eat at - cluttered instead with dishes and books and papers and a vase overflowing with fresh flowers.  
  
She drapes curtains on the walls because she feels like it's something her mother might have done. Heavy, dark green fabric that feels soft as water in her palms and moves with the wind when she leaves open the windows.  
  
The thick, sand colored rug she can barely haul up the stairs covers most of the floor, her bare feet positively singing when she steps onto it each morning.  
  
She remembers the cold of Hoth beneath the soles of her feet, stabbing even through thermal socks and heavy boots.  
  
This place, mismatched and creaking and dusty, is her new home. She tells herself that when she lays awake at night staring at the plain white ceiling, listening to someone having an argument on the streets below, her next door neighbor tinkering with pots and pans and the steady tick tock of the clock on her bedside table.  
  
This is home. _This is home_ , she whispers to herself.  
  
But it doesn't feel that way.  
  
  
  
The money won't last her long, isn't enough by a far stretch for her to spend the rest of her life in comfort.  
  
It takes her a while to find work when everything she is qualified for is exactly what she doesn't want to do, is trying to get away from. She has no desire in being a soldier, in training people how to fight, in handling any more weapons.  
  
She's seen a lifetime's worth of violence and is so very tired of it all.  
  
But she's hardly an artist, lacks the patience of a teacher and the skills and experience of most professions available in her new home.  
  
In the end, she realizes that it's not deep, profound purpose and fulfillment she seeks. All she truly aches for is something to keep her body busy during the long hours of the day to steer her thoughts away from all the places inside that sting and weep like foul wounds.

 

* * *

  
  
When she does find work, it's unlike anything she imagined. But perhaps that is exactly what she needs to steer her mind away from the emptiness that threatens to inhale it like a black hole.  
  
The store is small, tucked away in a narrow corner road, the display window as dark as the interior. Shelves and cases are filled to the brim with worn books, ancient chests, vases, knives, trinkets and jewelry from all corners of the galaxy and times long gone.  
  
Everything smells of dust and weathered wood, the floorboards giving away her every step as Jyn tries to make sense of everything that Mena Turik has accumulated over the decades. The old woman has skin as delicate as paper, walks with a cane, her white hair pulled up into an intricate bun adorned with clips and jewels that sparkle in the dim light of the store.  
  
She's kindhearted and full of stories, knows the origin of every single objects in her store, even the ones hidden away for decades on the back of a shelf or the bottom of a large trunk.  
  
Finding this place had been a coincidence - or perhaps the will of the Force - Jyn wonders some days, sitting among scrolls from times so long ago that she hardly dares touching them - her fingers instead ghosting over the crystal against her chest.  
  
Mena had offered her work when Jyn stepped into the store - having taken a wrong turn in the maze of narrow roads, intrigued by the creaking sign up front, curious as she stepped inside. Somehow, the old woman had sensed that Jyn was searching, was yearning.  
  
In here, she's occupied for hours each day, cataloging and cleaning and serving the odd customer. It's peaceful in its own way, all consuming in another and the balance of it strikes her as fitting.  
  
  
  
It feels odd, using her real name for the first time in so long. The desire to become someone else is strong, to hide behind Liana Hallik or Kestrel Dawn and to slip behind a mask.  
  
For safety, she tells herself.  
  
But there's no reason.  
  
People here are simple, know little of the happenings beyond their planet. Details of the Empire, of the Rebellion, are scarce.  
  
Nobody here knows who Galen Erso was.  
  
Nobody knows who she is.  
  
And maybe, just maybe, she's finally tired of running. Of hiding.

 

* * *

  
  
_the little girl is happiness and peace. droplets of water glisten on her skin and she spins around and around through the air._

_strong arms hold her. steady her._

_she spins in circles, the sound of her laughter as pure as the winter snow. her cheeks beam as red as berries, her eyes sparkle as bright as the stars._

“ _i'm a bird,” she giggles, out of breath. her dress flutters like wings, her hair as soft as feathers._

_she rests her hand on the man's cheek and smiles, the delicacy of her touch chasing away dark shadows._

_in her eyes, sunshine and joy spring to life._

 

* * *

  
  
The shop is closed today along with all others, a holiday that will be quietly celebrated by people in the comfort of their homes. Jyn is perched on the windowsill in the early morning hours, watching the sun rise in the crisp sky above the edges of town.  
  
Deeply, she inhales the fresh air, eyes fluttering shut as the breeze dances delicately through the loose strands of her hair.  
  
Her fingers are curled around a cup of steaming, leafy tea - the scent strong and reminding her of a damp, mossy plane that stretches on and on towards the horizon.  
  
The town rests sleepily outside, nothing but a soft hum of generators and a few people roaming the streets filling the air. Birds and other winged creatures flutter above, singing their sweet melodies, roaming the rooftops.  
  
A knock on the door jolts Jyn out of her trance. Instantly, she tenses, a few drops of hot tea spilling over onto her bare legs and feet. A hiss of pain, the rush of fabric as she climbs down from the window sill.  
  
Nobody has knocked on her door in the five months she has lived here. Not once, except in her dreams.  
  
Slowly, she crosses the room, the worn wood moaning beneath her feet. For a brief moment, she considers grabbing the blaster she keeps tucked away in her bedside table, but she dismisses the thought.

 

It is safe here, she tells herself.  
  
Still, muscle memory kicks in, her body tense and ready for a fight as she pulls open the door just a crack, just enough to glimpse into the dimly lit hallway.  
  
Everything freezes. Tilts. Her breath hitches in her throat and her heart skips a restless beat.  
  
It's been four years since she last saw him, since those stolen hours of night in a hangar on Hoth, surrounded by nothing but ice.  
  
He looks so much older.  
  
Worn.  
  
Weary.  
  
Torn apart and patched back together.  
  
His hair is longer, greasy and unkempt, his beard grown wiry and wild. Brown eyes, once so full of need, are now hollow, bloodshot, and circled by shadows so dark they bleed into his dry, bruised skin.  
  
Once, he knew how to make himself tall and strong. To carry his shoulders broad and his stance determined. Now, he's a shadow, a ghost. Thin and frail. A bend to his spine.  
  
Sores are red and raw on his palms, a rattle to his every breath.  
  
His clothes are those of a beggar. Torn, weathered, stained in blood and grease and mud, hanging off his tarnished body limply.  
  
He seems to just barely be able to hold himself up, his eyes finding hers.  
  
Her voice fails her. Cracks.  
  
"Cassian."  
  
He collapses into her arms when she pulls open the door fully, whimpers as she gasps, struggles and fails to hold him upright.  
  
Together, they fall to their knees, the impact aching in her bones but she ignores it.  
  
He's here.  
  
He came back.  
  
After all, he did promise.  
  
"Cassian," she whispers, cradling his face in her hands. Cheeks hollow, skin pale and loose across his bones. Blood crusts his beard, his lip is split.  
  
He broke his nose. More than once and it healed the wrong way. There's a burn mark beneath his left ear, the skin just as scarred as her back.  
  
Whatever lays hidden beneath his clothes, she doesn't want linger on right now.  
  
He sucks in a sharp breath, tears welling in his eyes and spilling over, catching in his lashes.  
  
"I found you," he breathes, voice strained and hoarse. Like he can't believe his own words are true.  
  
There's a distance in his eyes when she lowers her forehead to his. It's instinctual, something she craves so badly that she throws all caution to the wind.  
  
The need to be close to him, to wrap her arms around him and clutch him to her the way they'd done on the beach on Scarif, is overwhelming. But fear dominates her actions, fear that he'll crumble into dust at the lightest pressure, slip through her fingers as if he was never here in the first place.  
  
Nothing more than a cruel figment of her imagination.  
  
It must be a dream. It has to be.  
  
  
  
He stays in the fresher so long that she knows the water has long turned cold.  
  
Almost frantically, Jyn tries to clean the mess in her apartment. Picks up clothes and papers and knick knacks here and there, puts fresh sheets on the bed and washes fruit she bought from the market yesterday just in case he's hungry.  
  
Like it matters when it really does not.  
  
All she needs is something to do or else her mind will spin around and around and make her nauseous from the dizziness it causes.  
  
She gave up hope so long ago that accepting the reality of Cassian’s return is hard to grasp.  
  
When he emerges again, a towel wrapped around his waist and bare feet leaving wet prints on the floor, she reaches for him. Takes his hand and relishes in the way his fingers slip in between hers.  
  
Scars map across his chest in infinite numbers and shapes. Whips, cuts, burns. She doesn't know how many of them were already there before and how many came after.  
  
A few of them, though, are still pink around the edges. Fresh.  
  
She doesn't ask him any questions, doesn't ask him what happened, what went wrong - not when she knows he doesn't have the strength to answer them. Not yet. Maybe not ever.  
  
Instead, she gently tugs him down onto the bed and he sinks into the mattress with the barest sigh, his head resting in her lap.  
  
Gently, she runs her fingers through his damp hair, feels him shudder at the touch. His eyes - still distant, still foreign - fall closed and she's grateful for it.  
  
Looking at them hurts too much.  
  
It barely takes more than a few minutes for him to fall asleep, his breathing even. She listens to it intently, to every inhale and exhale. Tenderly, she ghosts her fingers over the side of his neck to feel his calm, steady pulse.  
  
Outside, the town awakens in an ever growing hum, buzzing quietly today. A mercy for him.  
  
  
  
He sleeps for almost two days straight, jolting awake every now and then. Eyes panicked, disoriented, and ripped open wide.  
  
Parched and with a stomach that growls relentlessly, yet he hardly eats a thing.  
  
Jyn has lied to Mena, telling her she's come down with something. Almost feels bad about lying to the gentle, old woman but she can't bear the thought of leaving Cassian alone now.  
  
Too big is her fear that she'll step through her door only to find him gone.  
  
To find that the ghosts he carries in his dark eyes have consumed him. They never waver, not even when he looks at her.

 

* * *

  
  
Four days after he stumbles back into her life, into her arms, he tells her what happened.  
  
Tells her about the mission that had gone wrong the moment he set foot on Cathar. All along, it had been a trap. His source dead long before he ever made contact - just as Jyn had uncovered.  
  
Cassian talks in a quiet voice, and even now it sounds strangled, hoarse. Deeper than before as if he spent the last four years screaming until little remained.  
  
Nervously, he keeps eyeing the window that's cracked open. Afraid even now of unwanted ears.  
  
There's little she can do to soothe him but Jyn tries all the same, ghosts her fingers over his cheek, down his neck. Finds his hand and allows it to fall into place with her own.  
  
He tells her he was taken and locked up the day he arrived - never given a chance to see through the ploy.  
  
"Draven said you had orders," Jyn whispers, keeping her body still despite wanting nothing more than to be closer to him. "In case you were... captured."  
  
Cassian's throat bops as he swallows deftly, the beard he'd trimmed yesterday merely a shadow now.  
  
He nods.  
  
"I did. I had the pill. But-" He pauses. Seeks out her gaze, then avoids it again. His shoulders tense, the weight of what he endured too much to carry now.  
  
She gives his hand a squeeze.  
  
"I knew my orders. And before- I would have given my life to the Alliance. Gladly. On Scarif, with you- I was- I was ready. It was okay. But then, when they tossed me into that cell..."  
  
A shiver runs through his body despite the balmy breeze that tickles their skin. Violent and tearing him out of his thoughts.  
  
"I did not want to die," he confesses then. “I wanted to keep my promise."  
  
It's barely a whisper and yet it has the force of a tempest, would have surely knocked Jyn off her feet if she weren't already sitting down.  
  
Cassian leaves her no time for guilt to fester inside of her - he endured years of torment for her. To keep a promise she never should have asked him to make.  
  
"I did not want to die because, for the first time, I- I had something to live for, other than the Alliance. Another life to go back to. Everything I ever did was for the Rebellion. But this time... I-" Whatever he is trying to say seems to be stuck in his throat, and he grasps at her hand instead, reaches out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.  
  
In his eyes, she can see a hint of the awe she saw in them before. Covered in dust and blood but still there, buried beneath it all.  
  
"You, Jyn. It all changed because of you," he croaks, and her lips tremble as she struggles to take in his words. "I wanted to come back to you because- I want- Wanted- All this time I-"  
  
His words fail him and he mutters a curse in a language she doesn't understand. Voice low and barely audible as his forehead falls to her shoulder.  
  
"If you still want," he mutters, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of her shirt at her back. Trailing over the ridges of her scars. "Only if you want."  
  
"Of course," Jyn chokes, tears staining her flushed cheeks and blurring her vision. She leans down and whispers softly to him. "Of course I do. I did. All this time."  
  
A confession that's muffled where she presses her lips to the crown of his head. His hair soft and thick, smelling of soap and sunshine.  
  
Cassian gasps with relief, then stutters through his next few breaths as the warmth of his tears soaks through her shirt and dampens the skin of her collarbone.  
  
It could have been so easy once.  
  
She knows that _now_ it won't be.


	5. part five

She thought he was broken after Scarif. And his body had been.  
  
This time, it's different.  
  
  
  
They never talk about the Alliance, although she's well aware he must have sought them out after his escape if only in hope of finding her. It pains her to imagine his reaction when he found out she was gone. That she had left it all behind.  
  
They must have given him her information, information Jyn always suspected they had on her whereabouts although she never told any of them where she was going after leaving the base.  
  
What matters is that Cassian, who had dedicated his entire life to the Rebellion, chose not to stay and be a part of the peace effort. He turned away from the one thing he spent all his life fighting for, almost _gave_ his life for.  
  
In many ways, he did.  
  
There's so little of him left, and most of that lays buried beneath layers of terror, shock and pain lodged so deep even Jyn can't seem to reach inside.  
  
When she leaves for work each day, it's always with a heavy feeling settling like stones in the pit of her stomach. He sleeps so much and is curled up on her bed looking softer than when he's awake.  
  
Her focus has shifted, and most of her time in the shop is spent staring at one of the many clocks on the walls, waiting. Counting down each minute, each hour.  
  
Mena reads her easily, but kind as she is, she says nothing. Simply rests her hand on Jyn's shoulder every now and then, a comforting gesture that's nearly overwhelming. It's the type of kindness Jyn has rarely felt in her life.  
  
When she returns, Cassian always waits for her. Usually, he sits crossed legged on the floor with his back against the bed, a pillow beneath him because otherwise the pain of his broken bones and torn muscles would be impossible to bear.  
  
Some days, he smiles when she steps through the door like he's genuinely happy. Other days, he's immobile, staring into the void, hardly noticing her presence at all. Other days, it's easy to pretend that life is good. He cooks for them, tidies the place that is theirs more than it's ever been hers. He welcomes her with a chaste press of his lips to the flush of her cheeks.  
  
Those days, she wants to curl her arms around his neck and pull him close, swallow the sigh of her name with her lips and lose herself in him.  
  
But those days are rare, so rare that they surprise her even when months pass and the seasons change, when the air turns colder and forms mist in front of her face, when white flakes dance from the sky until eventually the world turns warm again, sunlight peeking through cracks in the curtain, tickling her skin.  
  
  
  
The bustle of the town is too much for him. Too restless. Too loud. Too startling. At night, even the slightest sound stirs him awake with a gasp, and Jyn is left with nothing to do but reach out across the sheets to clasp her hand around his, giving silent reassurance that he's safe.  
  
She has no means of knowing what he hears in the creak of a wooden beam or the yelp of a stranger, the thud of boots or the roar of thunder.  
  
A whip lashing across his skin, perhaps. A stormtrooper coming to take him away, maybe. His brown eyes, capable of such warmth, turn cold as steel, swimming with terror. A riddle she lacks the key to solve.  
  
Other nights, it's the nightmares that wake him. That wake her. Too often, she stirs awake to his ragged breaths, feels the sweat pearling on his brows as he grunts in pain. Sometimes, he begs. Sometimes, he whimpers her name.  
  
He'll find no peace here, Jyn knows that. And all the peace she ever hoped to find for herself is now tied to him in such an intricate way that it frightens her. This last chance, however, is not one she is going to allow to slip through her fingers.  
  
Not this time.  
  
  
  
Curled into Cassian's side, Jyn sighs softly to herself. All these years since he disappeared, she had craved the closeness of him by her side in the darkness. The warmth of him and the steadiness his presence provided. Even now it still feels surreal to have that back.  
  
His fingers are drawing gentle patterns against her back, her own hand pressed flat against his chest. Feeling the even _thud thud thud thud_ of his heart. A comforting rhythm, soothing as a lullaby and all too quickly, she feels the weight of her eyelids grow too much to bear.  
  
But she's not ready to fall asleep, to grow blind and deaf to him.  
  
"Cassian?" she whispers, noticing the slight shiver that wrecks his body when her breath ghosts across the side of his neck, darkened with the shadow of his beard.  
  
His touch grows a little firmer, and he hums quietly in response.  
  
Suddenly, Jyn feels nervous, almost afraid of what she's been meaning to ask him for weeks now. "I was thinking-," she starts, quiet and with a voice that breaks on a shuddering exhale. "If you're not-"  
  
She mutters a curse under her breath, bites the inside of her cheek because Force, this shouldn't be so hard. They should be beyond this irrational fear. _She_ should be beyond it.  
  
Cassian, sensing the fight within her, pulls back a little and lifts onto his elbows to look down at her. The dim light casting through the curtains makes him look pale and the lines in his face deep with shadows. "Jyn?"  
  
There's so much concern laced into just the short word that it makes Jyn ache inside, shift closer to him until her leg is pressed against his.  
  
"What if we moved somewhere else?" she asks, barely more than a murmur, her head tilted up to meet his questioning gaze. "Somewhere quiet? Someplace where you can feel-" She has no clue what to say, how to read the slight expression of surprise on Cassian's face. "Anywhere," she sighs eventually, lowering her eyes because if he thinks her idea is silly she knows she can't face him.  
  
"This is your home," he replies after a long pause. His fingers find her chin, tenderly lifting her head until she can't escape him. Force, he's so close, the tip of his nose almost, _almost_ grazing hers.  
  
She can taste the mint on his breath from when he brushed his teeth before bed.  
  
Her lips curl into a sad smile. "No," she breathes, curling her fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. He should know better than to assume this, should know that when he once welcomed her _home_ it was the first time since she was a child that the word carried any meaning. "This- that's not home." She shakes her head slightly, just enough to bring herself a little closer to him.  
  
Beneath her palm, his heartbeat grows rapid, and Jyn can feel her own blood rushing in her ears. Even now, she remembers how soft his kiss had been, and the need she feels for it now burns through her veins like fire.  
  
"Cassian-", she chokes, her body trembling with nervous energy. But he only hushes her softly, one hand coming up to cradle her cheek in his palm. Briefly, she watches his eyes flicker down to her lips, a silent question. Instead of an answer, she breaches the distance between them and brushes her lips against his as soft as a feather because he might still run.  
  
She might still run.  
  
But neither of them does. Instead, Cassian deepens the kiss and draws her closer into the cradle of his body until they both sigh with relief. His lips are warm against her own, tasting sweet and spicy all at once, and nothing has ever felt as achingly beautiful as his thumb tracing her cheekbone and his lashes fluttering against her skin.  
  
It feels like a first kiss in so many ways that once they part, Jyn has to bite back a smile that stubbornly wants to break free. It feels inappropriate, too carefree.  
  
Cassian is more somber, nuzzling his nose against her cheek and inhaling deeply, savoring the moment. "I can't ask you to give everything up for me," he murmurs, hoarse and deep and sending a jolt through her system.  
  
Her brows furrow once his words truly register, and she pulls back, presses her forehead to his.  
  
"What am I giving up?" she asks, a part of her wanting to yell and shout and shake him because he's not making any sense and he should know better than to think anything she has built here is more important than what she feels for him. Without him, she might have eventually grown to see this place as home, might have found someone, one day, who could give her an inkling of peace and joy.  
  
It's not a future she wants to linger on when she's right here in Cassian's arms. "I'll find work. Maybe we could..." She pauses, pressing another kiss to his lips. "There are farms along the coast."  
  
"A farm?" he repeats, wearing a slight frown.  
  
Jyn shrugs, starting to feel, like so often, that any word she says cannot truly convey what's in her heart. "If you'd like that."  
  
Cassian sighs deeply, the kind of sound that is riddled with defeat and concern. He moves back, rests his head against the pillow and like a magnetic pull, Jyn follows. Curling herself into his side again and he doesn't refuse her.  
  
"Jyn, I just- I want to be with you," he admits, and the words seem to choke him, his voice rough and crumbling towards the end. Somehow, he still seems to believe she's making some sort of grand sacrifice here by offering him an alternative.  
  
"You have me," she whispers, tracing the line of his jaw with her lips because now that he let her in, she can't stay away. Would wither like a flower in a drought if he shut her out.  
  
She needs him, has needed him all these years when she had to live with the certainty she'd never be allowed to so much as look at him again. And now... now he's right here, a low groan escaping him at her touch.  
  
"Force, Jyn," he grunts, his hand squeezing tightly at her waist. "I-"  
  
The way he looks up at her, flushed cheeks and dark eyes full of wonder, sends little pin pricks of pain through Jyn's body, her flesh tightening with goosebumps because nobody has ever looked at her like that. "You've no idea how much-"  
  
"I do," she interrupts him, pressing her fingers against his lips, silencing him before he says something in the heat of the moment that they are not ready for.  
  
Deep down, she knows what he had been on the brink of saying. Knows that it would have been the genuine truth. But they have time for that now, time to shape this feeling between them, time to learn each other, time to let it grow. "Trust me," she whispers with a smile, pressing one more kiss to his lips that lingers. "I do."  
  
  
  
The house they find has seen better days. It's nestled against a cradle of rocks, offering some shelter from the heat of the sun. Surrounded by fields of green and vibrant flowers, it's the type of sanctuary Jyn had pictured for them.  
  
Wooden floors that creak beneath their feet, stone walls that have soaked up the salty scent of the sea. Windows that open wide to flood the rooms with light and life. The wind rushes through the leafs of the trees surrounding the house - all of them carrying sweet fruits.  
  
The porch at the back is flooded with light, a small pond dug into the ground along the house - the sunlight reflecting like pearls off the fish that swim through the calm water.  
  
Isolation comes with the house - it's an hour's walk away from the nearest fishermen settlement, a few more to the next large town further inland. The ocean, however, is just beyond the hill, the rush of breaking waves steady and soothing.  
  
The old man who lives here is grateful beyond belief when they offer to take over the small farm for him. His wife has passed, his children have left, and all alone he cannot shoulder the work of maintaining the vegetable patches and fruit trees and of fishing in the sea.  
  
“It will need some work, I'm afraid,” he tells them, voice fragile with age. He's small, smaller probably than he had been in youth. “I haven't been able to repair things as needed.”  
  
Cassian draws his hand down the length of a door frame that is splintered, and Jyn peaks into the kitchen only to see a few cracked, stained tiles covering the wall.  
  
“That's all right,” she assures the old man, offering the kindest smile she can manage.  
  
  
  
“Thank you,” Cassian whispers later, when they stand on the hill behind the house - their new home to one side, the ocean to the other. Around them, the air is quiet and gentle. His words are muffled where he breathes them into the hair at the crown of her head, sealing them with a kiss.  
  
“For what?” Jyn asks, wrapping her hands around his waist and pulling herself closer to him.  
  
He doesn't reply, but his silence is answer enough.  
  
  
  
It could be perfect. Jyn wishes it would be, but perfection is an illusion.  
  
Some days, the quiet serenity of the farm reminds her too much of the short time she spent on Lahmu with her parents. The peace, as her father had called it. The memories it conjures up burn too bright and sharp - no matter how desperately she wishes she could look back at those days with fondness.  
  
But no matter how sweet the memory, in the end she always watches her mother fall to the ground, feels the weight of her father, dead in her arms. She never had many good memories, and the few she held onto all these years are tainted now.  
  
The quiet that Cassian finds so much solace in is deafening to her on the bad days. He, however, seems to bloom again and is less tense. His eyes are brighter, and he smiles more often. He's generous with his kisses and embraces and seeks her out throughout the day every chance that presents itself.  
  
It takes weeks, months, before she stops hearing the echo of the blaster that killed her mother in the breeze of the sea. Before the quiet of night is no longer filled with the rain that drummed down on her father’s dead body on Eadu. Before the solitude of the farm ceases to reminds her of the hollow ache she felt all these years in Cassian’s absence.  
  
In time, she learns to cherish the peace that Cassian seemingly embraces so easily. In time, the demons that could roam so freely in the silence find rest in it too.

 

* * *

  
  
War is all he has ever known. All his life, Cassian spent fighting. Even though he rarely talks about before - about the loss of his parents, about the war, about what deeds he committed in the name of the rebellion - Jyn knows that fight. Violence and war are laced into his veins perhaps even more than her own.  
  
This sedentary life is not one he is used to. After Saw left her behind, Jyn had to spend long periods of time laying low. Blending in before it all erupted in fire and smoke again.  
  
Cassian, however, only knows life with intent. The cause he was so dedicated to has failed him and has cost him so much. More than his life. Death, she thinks often when she watches him stare into the distance, would have been a mercy for him. Captivity was the worse punishment.  
  
He is no longer the man she first met. The one intent on assassinating her father. He isn't the man beneath the mask anymore either - the one who lowered his rifle and disobeyed his orders, who came back for her.  
  
Who chose her over the Alliance.  
  
He's just pieces now. Cracked and weathered, jagged and sharp-edged at first until time smooths them out the way the sea turns broken glass into the softest shapes.  
  
Some days, he grows restless with the quiet and rushes outside to find something, anything to do. Fingers twitching against his thigh, jaw tense.  
  
In those moments, she wonders why he came back to her, why he sought her out in the whole wide galaxy when he could have remained with the Alliance. When he could have helped to establish peace, to make sure that everything they fought for was not in vain.  
  
But every now and then, he breaks. Wakes at night soaked with sweat and tears and flinches away even from the softest touch. In those moments, when another hairline fracture cracks her heart, Jyn knows he can never go back to that life.  
  
What little is left of him will shatter. And then there'll be nothing left of him at all, no piece to come back to her one last time.

 

* * *

  
  
It's been so, so long and it's never been like this.  
  
She's never done this because she wanted to, because she craved it. Until now, it was always a means to an end.  
  
To secure her passage on someone's ship.  
  
To have a roof over her head for one night.  
  
To render someone weak, vulnerable - using that to her advantage.  
  
She never drew any pleasure from it. That was never what it was about. At this point, she can't even recall the last time it happened.  
  
A few months before she was captured? Before Wobani? She comes up empty when she tries to remember and she doesn't want to.  
  
Not now.  
  
Not when everything is so different.  
  
The windows are wide open, curtains fluttering in the ocean breeze, the air crisp as the dawn paints the sky in the most gentle shades of rose and orange. The tall grass rustles, the sound blending seamlessly with the slide of bare skin against soft sheets.  
  
It makes sense, she thinks, that it would happen like this. Nothing grand, all the time in the world and yet no space left between them for doubt, fear, and insecurities.  
  
She can hardly breathe, fingers woven into Cassian's silky hair as he rocks into her. Slow, a little unsteady, her name a choked sob into the curve of her neck.  
  
Her skin is damp where his tears have stained it.  
  
Neither of them can get close enough to the other, crawling under skin and clawing their way into deep layers of flesh, into the marrow of their bones and the soul hidden beneath.  
  
Cassian's arm is locked tightly around her waist, hand splayed against her lower back and Jyn relishes in the pressure of each fingertip. His free hand has found hers, fingers entwined so intricately that she's not sure they'll ever be able to part them again.  
  
Her legs are woven around his, her heels resting against his thighs, drawing him in further, deeper.  
  
It's still not enough. The stretch and pressure of him deep inside, the friction of his pelvis against her own, the calloused smoothness of his hands. The whisper of his lips.  
  
An onslaught, and yet she craves so much more.  
  
Once, she found it foolish to believe people sought a connection in this that went beyond physicality. Now, she realizes that she had been the fool all along for doubting it. In Cassian's embrace, she feels complete for the first time in her life. It's a culmination of chaste glance and brief kisses that turned more urgent, more demanding over time until at last, neither of them could deny themselves this any longer.  
  
It's just another morning like any other, except it's not. When a moan tears from her throat that sounds too much like a plea, when she feels a tension coiling inside of her that she never believed another person could give her, when Cassian moves deeper, desperate to complete them both, it feels like a shift.  
  
Like they're burying something as they plant the seeds for a new tomorrow.  
  
"Jyn," he chokes, squeezing her hand tighter and pulling her hips flush against his. Inside of her, she can feel him pulse, warm and heavy and she focuses on that. Her lips curl into a hazy sort of smile. "I can't-"  
  
His face is still hidden in her neck, the warmth of his breath tickling her pulse point. It feels good, but she wants to see him.  
  
"Look at me," she whispers, her hand cradling his cheek. "Please."  
  
It takes him a second but then he grants her wish - he always does. Stars, he's a sight. Holding himself up above her and stilling. Hair a tousled mess, skin flushed red, eyes hooded and dark with desire.  
  
The smile she wore before softens, melds into something entirely different. Cassian notices, shuddering, before leaning down to brush his lips against hers.  
  
With a tilt of her hips she urges him to move again and he does, panting hoarsely as she starts squirming beneath him. So close, close enough to taste the sweetness of it on her lips as Cassian presses his forehead to hers.  
  
Almost in a daze, she moves her hand between them, between the press of their sweat-slicked skin until she reaches the place where they are joined. Her fingers slide across her own flesh a little aimlessly for a breathless second before finding her goal.  
  
Her back bows off the bed and she can feel the strain in her neck, but a second later Cassian swats her hand away.  
  
"Let me," he all but begs before she can even whimper in protest, his fingers replacing hers and she doesn't know how or why but it feels so much better. Electricity burns in every cell of her body, setting it all ablaze as she grasps at his hand, his shoulder, as she grows hypersensitive to everything. The raises of his scars against her skin, the taste of him on her lips, the sound of his breath, like a prayer.  
  
When she falls apart, it's an eruption of white hot heat that blinds her and burns through her core and limbs, that makes her clench and shudder all at once.  
  
Faintly, she can hear Cassian's plea, feels him seek refuge in the crook of her neck again, moving into her over and over, harder than before, faster - it's almost painful, too much as currents of shock continue to wreck her and she still feels herself clenching around him when he groans - deep but quiet, pulsing inside of her as he rocks once, twice, and then stills.  
  
A boneless fatigue settles over her then. Her skin still as sensitive as a live wire, her breathing shallow.  
  
Her fingers draw patterns against his back, over the ridges of his spine and the indents and raises of scars.  
  
There's no need for words when she curls into his side and presses her lips to his heart. As he presses his own lips against the crown of her head.  
  
They watch in silence as the sky turns from a gentle shade of orange to a powder blue, listen to the breaking of waves against the shore across the hill.  
  
This, Jyn wonders, might be what it's like to be truly happy.


	6. part six

Settling into a routine becomes as easy as breathing, with every set and rise of the sun.  
  
Waking up in the morning to sunlight tickling bared skin is gentle, a far cry from waking in a metal cage to the harsh ring of a siren. Breakfast is a treat they allow themselves. Sweet bread they bake and fruity spreads they make themselves.  
  
There's all the time in the world to look after the vegetables and fruits they grow, to care for the few animals they have taken in.   
  
And when the day comes to an end, the sea draws them in, bare feet treading through the broken waves, hands entwined as the sun tints the water red. Some days, when they feel bold, they peel off their clothes and submerge themselves, letting the cold water soothe their marred skin.  
  
At night, with their bellies full and their limbs entwined, Jyn feels complete in a way she never knew was possible.  
  
Comfort grows from the most mundane moments - sipping on a cup of steaming caf on the porch, legs tucked beneath them. The scent of freshly washed clothes and the softness of them against their skin. Making love with the windows wide open as the breeze tickles their exposed skin. Watching a bladeback boar nurse her baby, full of love and adoration. Eating fruit fresh off the trees, the juices running down their chins until they kiss them away.

 

  
Once a week, Jyn makes her way to the fisherman's settlement, the rundown speeder they acquired filled with everything they harvested, ready to sell at the market. Quickly, the faces there become familiar, the smiles more pleasant and the greetings more heartfelt.  
  
Cassian rarely comes along, the crowd of the market still too much for him to endure.  
  
Once a month, Jyn makes the longer journey into town - slowed down by an ache in her chest that she only finds a name for after many months.  
  
Homesickness.  
  
For the first time since she was a little girl, the world is full of wonder - stories to read, holos to watch, hidden corners to be discovered beyond the hills without the need to look over their shoulders and keep their hands at their blasters.  
  
There's no need to carry those. Not anymore.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Even now that time has had a chance to soothe old wounds - never heal, no, deep down they will fester and weep forever - the extent of what Cassian suffered is a mystery to Jyn.  
  
Just as much as he'll never truly understand the profound emptiness she felt for years in his absence, convinced that he was gone forever. Even if she knew how to string words together the delicate way so many people can, they would never truly explain how she felt, how lost she was.  
  
Cassian speaks so little of it, and only ever allows her glimpses of the truth. In the quiet solitude of their new home, he has grown calm and balanced.  
  
Yet, some days, she watches him stare into the distance and she can almost see the blood and the pain in his eyes.  
  
Barely a year after they settle, a harsh storm wrecks the shore. Thunder roars loudly through the night, the wind rattling at the structure of the house. Against her body, Cassian trembles. Fingers curl deftly into her arms as he holds her close, his breath too quick, too shallow.  
  
“They're all gone,” she whispers into the night, against his temple, smoothing her fingers through his hair. “They can't hurt us anymore.”  
  
The fragility he hides well beneath his strength and the smiles he reserves for her is a constant reminder of what he endured. A part of him neither of them will ever be able to vanquish.  
  
Some days, she wonders how different things might have been if his fateful mission had been a success. Would they still have found their way to each other? Would they have lived to see the Empire fall? Would they have found the courage to leave it all behind? Would they have even wanted to? 

They might have, Jyn thinks. But they will never know now.   
  


 

* * *

  
  
The water feels cold where it laps at her bared skin, red and warm to the touch from the heat of the summer sun above them. Waves break against the shore a few feet away, the ripples swaying her body even as she clings to Cassian.  
  
Her legs locked tight around his waist, arms curled around his shoulders. His feet are still firmly planted on the slick sand beneath the surface, but Jyn knows she'd disappear if he set her down now.  
  
But he won't.  
  
He's spinning her as she leans back, resting against the water's surface, the sun shining down on her.   
  
All alone, there's no need to hide her nakedness, no need to suppress the laugh as Cassian lightly splashes some water across her glistening chest.  
  
“ Stop it,” Jyn teases only half serious, taking in the sight of him - wet hair plastered to his face, cheeks flushed. He does stop, but not without a flicker of mischief in his eyes.  
  
Slowly, he leans down, pressing his lips to the hollow of her collarbone before tracing up the length of her neck. His hands remain steady at her hips, holding her as close as he possibly can. All bare skin and naked heat.  
  
“ Cassian-” she gasps a little breathlessly, but he loses his footing in that moment, yelping and struggling to regain his balance before sending them both tumbling.  
  
Jyn tightens her hold on him, eyes wide as they meet his. For a moment, they stare at each other, adrenaline rushing through their veins.  
  
Then, she bursts out laughing. It's loud and clear and feels foreign, but she cannot hold it back. It must be contagious too because Cassian joins in, eyes crinkling as he does.  
  
The sound mingles with the rush of the sea until eventually they grow quiet, sucking in deep breaths as their foreheads come to rest against each other.  
  
Cassian’s finger traces her cheek, her temple, tucks a slick strand of hair behind her ear. “Jyn,” he whispers, suddenly full of nerves, swallowing deftly as he nudges the tip of his nose against hers. “I love you.”  
  
It's so quiet that the words might as well be a hum of the wind, but they settle deep in her heart because she knows them to be true. Has known for so long, has heard it in his every sigh, has seen it in his eyes, has felt it even in the most fleeting touch.  
  
She kisses him, lips curved into a smile against his. Fingers splayed over his cheek, feeling the smoothness of his skin contrasting the coarseness of his beard.  
  
“ I love you, too.”   
  


 

* * *

“Jyn?”

She startles slightly, not having expected him back so soon.

Despite the slight drizzle of rain, Cassian had left to take a walk - to clear his mind. Some days, he seeks refuge in the solitude. Gone for hours, he usually returns with flushed cheeks and clearer eyes, with an honest smile and a kiss full of yearning.

Like he _missed_ her, even during those rare few hours.

“You're back early,” Jyn points out with a smile, setting down their holo reader on the small table. A breeze from the open window upsets her hair, a few stubborn strands dancing around her face, tickling her.

With a gentle nod, Cassian sits down next to her. He has taken off his shoes, she notices, and that is probably why she did not hear him. His lips press against her temple, lingering there for a moment.

“Who was that?” he asks, pointing at the holo reader as he leans back into the soft cushions. There's a hint of restlessness clinging to him even now.

It hasn't been a good week.

“Mena,” Jyn replies. Her heart is still filled with so much fondness for the old woman that her lips curve into an almost melancholic smile. They haven't been back in so long - not since they moved away - but when the blueish flicker of the holo showed her face, Jyn had recognized each and every wrinkle, freckle and curl of gray hair.

For a second, she hesitates.

“She invited us,” she says then, weighing the last word cautiously on her tongue. It carries so much weight that she's afraid it'll crush Cassian.

But his face remains set in stone as he draws his fingertips sweetly up and down the length of her arm.

“That's kind of her,” he murmurs. It sounds almost as if he did not understand the implications but Jyn knows he did. Nothing ever goes unnoticed for him. Even years of torture and isolation have not driven that out of him.

She moves a little closer until her knee presses against the side of his thigh - even through the cotton of her pants she can feel the cold he brought inside with him.

“Will you come with me?”

The question is a threadbare whisper, her voice trembling as she seeks out his hand and laces their fingers together. She'd go on her own but being separated from him for more than a few hours still drives a chill through her veins. Since his return, they have not spent a single night apart.

She can't bear the idea of it.

“Of course I will,” Cassian replies, giving her hand a squeeze.

Such a quick, determined response is not what Jyn expected. Her brows furrow with concern and she bores her eyes into his in search of even the smallest hint of doubt.

“Are you-”

His lips against hers swallow her question, and Jyn can not hold back a sigh. When Cassian begins to whisper into the kiss, she cannot make out the words at first. But he leans back enough to press his brows to hers and repeat them.

“I'd do anything for you, Jyn,” he breathes brokenly, his fingertips ghosting along the side of her neck where her pulse throbs steadily. “ _Anything_. Anything for you. Everything I did since I met you has been for you.”

Tears burn in her eyes, spilling over and dampening both their skin as she leans back in to kiss him again. Her heart clenches almost painfully in her chest and she hopes, _prays_ , that he can hear the love and gratefulness in her whimper of his name.

 

* * *

  
  
Rain pelts against the windows in a thrumming, gentle rhythm - little tear trails that blur the fields beyond. Everything is gray, but there's no sorrow in the sight. Tomorrow morning, the remaining droplets will glisten on flowers and leafs in the sunlight, the breeze will eventually carry them away.  
  
Leaving behind the warm, comforting scent in the air that Jyn has come to treasure so much, always inhaling it deep into her lungs until she feels dizzy from it.  
  
Her hands are still damp from cleaning the dishes, and she laughs softly at the sight of Cassian leaning against the counter next to her - a sprinkle of flour caught in his beard from the freshly baked bread they'd had for dinner.  
  
"What's so funny?" he asks, stacking the last plate back onto the shelf. Jyn only purses her lips, takes a step closer to him, bare feet nudging his. Slowly, she curls her hands into the front of his shirt, raises onto her tiptoes.  
  
"You've got something," she whispers, feeling him shudder briefly before pressing her lips to the stubble on his chin, brushing the flour away.  
  
Cassian's hands find her waist, applying just enough pressure to keep her in place when his lips find hers. There's a greediness to the kiss that takes her a little by surprise and she gasps, knees weak as he turns her and lifts her onto the counter.  
  
Something clatters noisily to the floor but she ignores it. She wouldn't have the strength to look down even if she wanted to. Not with Cassian pushing himself between her parted knees and his lips whispering sweet nothings against her own in a language she doesn't understand.  
  
Fire stokes low in her belly, her arms winding around his neck to hold him close as her legs wrap around his hips.   
  
His kisses - open-mouthed and maddening - trail down her neck like the raindrops on the window, a clear path that draws a sigh from her throat.  
  
It's not until Cassian pushes closer, grinding against her core and his hand lingering on her breast, that Jyn startles.  
  
"Wait!" she gasps, and it barely takes half a second for Cassian to pull away, wide-eyed and afraid. Afraid he's hurt her, afraid he took a wrong step.  
  
As if on cue, Jyn feels the pulse in her upper arm where the implant she'd gotten a decade ago steadily lets her know that it needs to be replaced. Every other hour, it pulses. _One, two, three. One, two, three._  
  
Jyn ghosts her fingers across the unscathed skin.  
  
"I need to have it replaced," she explains, keeping her legs locked around Cassian. She doesn't want him to pull away just yet.  
  
It takes a second for him to catch up, lips swollen from their kisses and his cheeks flushed. A sight for sore eyes and Force, it doesn't help with the heat she feels pooling in her own veins.  
  
He nods in understanding, the lust in his eyes slowly ebbing away.  
  
Until it's replaced by something else.  
  
Something Jyn cannot seem to understand at first, a daydream she can not see as his head tilts and curiosity, hope, and wonder blossom in his eyes.  
  
And then she can see it too. Allows herself to indulge in a dream she's never dreamed, never had the luxury of painting in her mind before.  
  
It's crystal clear now.  
  
The bubbling laughter of a baby.  
  
A little boy with fire in his veins.  
  
A little girl with her father's eyes.  
  
Cassian's hand finds hers, entwining their fingers and pressing them against her breast, the crystal boring into her palm.  
  
They never talked about the possibility before, never mapped out a future. Too afraid of dreams being torn from them, burning to ash. But suddenly, it's right here between them, silent but pulsing, glowing. It wants and it needs and she craves it so deep down to her core that it makes her ache.  
  
Taking deep, measured breaths, Jyn looks up at Cassian, waiting. The question is clear as day in his eyes, no effort made to hide it away. Honesty is all they know between one another now.  
  
Jyn imagines it one more time. Weighs the options in her heart. She has room there now, so much room, so much more to give than she ever had before.  
  
Fear is laced into the dream, too. Petrifying terror. But it will always be there, a festering wound they'll both carry until the day they die.  
  
They have the chance at a future now. To shape it, make it, live it.  
  
And so, softly, Jyn nods.  
  
Cassian's face softens, worry lines melting away. He draws his hands down her sides until he reaches her thighs, lifting her up and off the counter.  
  
With a sigh, she holds on to him, nuzzling her nose against his pulse point, breathing him in as he walks them to the bed. Switching off the bright overhead light on the way until they are bathed in the orange glow of the candles scattered around the room.  
  
Flickering, shadows dancing.  
  
Neither of them has eyes for that.  
  
Standing at the foot of the bed, Cassian slowly undresses her. Peels away layers of fabric to reveal pale skin underneath. Ghosting his hands over freckles and scars and indents and smooth ivory. Not an inch is neglected, and Jyn feels like she's spinning.  
  
His hands span around her waist, lips trailing down from the crystal between her breasts all the way to her navel, so tenderly that it almost tickles, Cassian nuzzles his nose against the softness of her belly, brushing his lips from one hipbone to the other.  
  
He's imagining, Jyn thinks, smiling down at him and sifting her fingers through his hair.   
  
It's almost too easy to picture it. Her stomach round, Cassian's ear pressed to the swell.  
  
The thought makes her smile. A smile that is replaced by a moan of his name when he trails his lips further down, inhaling her.  
  
Gently, he steers her to the bed and when he places himself between her thighs, Jyn loses all coherent thought. Every kiss, every swipe of his tongue, the slide of his fingers, it pulls all the muscles in her body taut until they snap, until her back arches off the soft comforter and she spins, spins, up, up, up until she comes back down.   
  
She's still floating when he feathers a few more kisses across the insides of her thighs. Damp and warm. A hazy smile curling his lips that she can feel burning into her skin.  
  
"Come here," she whispers, her hand stretched out for him, achingly lonely until he allows her to pull him up.  
  
She rids him off his own clothes with just as much dedication as he had. Relishing in the comfort of having all the time in the world. Time enough to reveal his skin, his scars, his secrets. Time enough to kiss all the places that make him sigh and moan and bite his cheek.  
  
His knuckles turn the most magnificent shade of white when he fists the comforter, hips bucking off the bed as she curls her hand around him. Strokes once, twice. Slow and deliberate before she straddles and kisses him.  
  
They lose themselves in the kiss, lips melting and whispering against the other. The rain muffles the soft gasps as she sinks onto him, taking him inside as slowly as he is taking her apart.  
  
Her legs lock behind his back, his own legs a support for her to lean against. Breasts flush against his chest as she rocks slowly, keeping him deep. Small movements that send shudders and sparks through both of their bodies.  
  
And when it's over, when she has clutched at his shoulders and dug half moons into the skin, when he has spent himself inside of her and she ground down more than ever before, they rest their foreheads against each other.  
  
Eyes locked.  
  
Breaths mingling.  
  
Even in the dark, Jyn can see hope glowing between them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go - thank you all so much for the support and love so far, it's been really encouraging ❤


	7. part seven

Jyn always assumed it would simply happen. That's the way she was taught - in crude detail - by Saw’s people growing up. Nobody sat her down to explain it to her in a way that was appropriate for a child. Instead she overheard retellings and fantasies and words she did not understand, piecing everything together over time.  
  
 _Always be careful,_ Idryssa had told her once. Pale faced with sharp yellow eyes and pursed lips. _It just takes once and you'll never be free again._  
  
Now, for the first time in her life, Jyn truly feels free.   
  
But when she bleeds again moon after moon, the frustration and disappointment become hard to ignore. At first a distant throb, they soon become more insistent.

  
Once, she thinks they have finally succeeded. She can feel it, she's sure. Something is different.  
  
But when she takes one of the small tests she bought and it's yet another defeat, the tears come without warning. It's Cassian who cradles her to his chest, who kisses the crown of her head and whispers his comfort against her tear-stained skin.  
  
“What if I can't-” she gasps, her hand pressed to the flat of her stomach. Littered in scars, pale now but how many bruises have tinted her skin in her lifetime?  
  
Gently, Cassian shakes his head. “Have hope,” he murmurs, but now more than ever she finds it hard to believe in that.  
  


  
  
It's a beautiful day. The sun's shining bright in the powder blue sky, a dotting of small clouds like cotton strung across the canvas. The gentle breeze that carries from the sea ghosts unseen over fields and dusty paths, twirling sand and petals and blades of grass.  
  
The decision to walk into town instead of taking the speeder comes easily and without hesitation. It'll take them two hours but Jyn relishes the feeling of the sun prickling on her skin and the wind in her hair.  
  
Cassian's hand entwined with her own, they walk along the winding path through hills and fields of wildflowers, listening to the rush of breaking waves until it grows quiet.   
  
Her chest, however, feels tight, her palms clammy. She can't focus even on the silence.  
  
What if the future they'd been craving so badly, so desperately, is not in the cards for them? What if her body has suffered too much to create and carry life? What if it's a gift she'll never bear? What if Cassian has endured too much, a lifetime of war having taken its toll?  
  
"Jyn," Cassian murmurs after a while, looking down at her with concern. The brown of his eyes is hazy, yet penetrating.   
  
Jyn only sighs, leans into him until he wraps a strong arm around her. Their steps synchronized and even. Their breathing, their heartbeats in tune.  
  


  
  
The hum of the town is a welcome distraction as they walk through the gates. Laughing children run through alleyways and across cobblestone roads, merchants praise their goods, a woman sings from a window up above.   
  
Beside her, Jyn can feel Cassian tensing a little, something he has learned to hide well. Still, it's undeniable what a challenge it proves for him to be here.  
  
Usually, it's always her who visits the town. Never him.  
  
Too many people. Too crowded. Too loud. Too unpredictable.  
  
But for her, for them, he straightens his shoulders and releases a long, whooshing breath. Jyn smiles up at him, a smile he returns with thin lips and a squeeze of his hand.  
  
The medical building is new, an ill fitting monstrosity of mirrored glass among brick buildings and wooden beams that hold up the town.  
  
Inside, the smell reminds her instantly of the Alliance's medical bay. Clinical and sour, almost unbearable to breathe in.   
  
As they wait, time passes slowly. She pays no mind to the holograms displayed on the wall, information about all sorts of procedures and preventive measures.   
  
Hands folded in her lap, foot tapping against the ground.   
  
"What if-" she starts, shocked by the raw sound of her own voice, the defeat that's already embedded deep.  
  
Cassian shakes his head.  
  
"Let's just wait and see."  
  


  
  
She expected so little. Feared so much. The images she painted in her head bleak and frightful, miserable enough to make her weep silently when Cassian wasn't looking.  
  
Not once did she assume this.  
  
The blurred blotch of white on the screen, unintelligible and with a thrumming, barely-there heartbeat.  
  
It's right there in front of her, her hand reaching out until calloused, pale fingertips trace the lines on the screen - the words of the medic fading away.  
  
Jyn's breathing becomes labored as she struggles to comprehend, the reality of it all too bright. Her chest fills with love so all encompassing that it compresses her lungs, her pulse rushing in her own ears.  
  
Next to her, Cassian is dead silent. She's almost afraid to look at him, afraid of what she'll find.  
  
Regret. Fear. Terror.  
  
But when she does tear her glistening eyes away from the screen, she's met with none of that.  
  
He smiles. Gentle. Just the lightest curve of his lips. But his eyes are radiant, wide with happiness.  
  
The fear will come eventually. The terror will drive him to his limits. Perhaps, she wonders with a shuddering breath, he'll come to regret their decision. But in this moment right now, he takes her hand and leans into her. Presses a kiss to her temple and breathes her in.  
  
This close, she can hear the hitch in his breath, can feel the beating of his heart in tune with hers.  
  


  
  
The pad of his thumb traces her pulse point, gravel crunching beneath them as they slowly make their way back home.   
  
_ Home. _   
  
The word has never carried as much weight as it does now.  
  
Everything feels different, and the world around them is now so much brighter.  
  
With a sigh, Jyn takes another bite of the sweet bread they'd bought at a stall on the way out of town. Overpriced for sure but a treat neither of them wanted to deny themselves. It's soft as a cloud, molasses melting on her tongue.  
  
Cassian smiles at her, brow raised in that mischievous way she so rarely gets to see.  
  
"Good?" he asks, still carrying his own in a paper bag - bits of dried fruit laced into the dough, crispy and full of spices.   
  
"Better."  
  


 

* * *

  


More and more, it feels like her body is no longer her own. The way it grows round and swells, the way every single movement becomes more strenuous over time.  
  
Force, she's never been this tired. Falls asleep during the day, collapses into bed at night. The sight of food alone makes her eyes water with nausea, the smell is even harder to stand. She feels slow, sluggish. Like no control remains over what is happening to her.  
  
But there's also the warmth she feels, pulsing steadily through her. The comfort of resting her hand against the swell of her stomach. Watching it grow more and more as the months pass. Knowing her child is safe, protected, loved.  
  
Feeling the baby move inside of her - strange at first, painful at times but always so reassuring. Watching Cassian build a crib, buying fabric for a canopy to go above it. She'd sew stars into it if only she could. She'd give everything to this life she has not even met, the life they created. It's a part of her already, deeply entwined with every fiber of her being.   
  


  
  
In Cassian’s eyes, she can see his fears. They grow along with their child inside of her, as do her own. Memories of her own mother are vague and long replaced by fantasies. Can she be gentle enough? Kind enough? Will the world ever truly be safe and good enough? Will she be able to keep their baby safe in the darkness that lingers and refuses to give way to light?  
  
Cassian hardly strays from her side. He hovers, his hands ghosting over her in touches that he tries to make appear accidental but are not. He's assuring himself that she is fine, that she's close.   
  
Other days, he retreats. Closes himself off and sits for hours in the hills. Asking himself the same questions, riddled by the same doubts as she is.  
  
Jyn knows he'll be a good father, knows how deeply he cares and how dedicated he is. How unconditional his love is. Cassian, however, still remains riddled with doubt.  
  


  
  
Without him, the bed feels vast, cold and empty. Jyn draws her hand over the untouched sheets on his side, eyes his pillow with a sad frown.  
  
It's hard to drift off to sleep without him by her side, even though he'd told her not to wait up for him.  
  
Today has not been a good day.   
  
With a sigh, Jyn crawls out of bed, wraps a blanket around her shoulders because the night air is chilly and already she can feel goosebumps erupting all over her bare arms and legs.  
  
On quiet, bare feet she walks through the living room and through the open arch that leads to the porch at the back of the house. The sky is a deep blue, sprinkled with stars, and Cassian's skin glows white in the light of a moon where he stands in the grass a few meters away.  
  
He can hear her, but he does not turn, hardly even acknowledges her presence. His chest is bare, scars that litter his body like a map almost are pearly. The sight of them will never not fill her with dread.  
  
“ Cassian?” she says softly, not wanting to startle him. The grass is cold but soft beneath the aching soles of her feet, each step a comfort rather than a strain. She stops just a few inches behind him, close enough for him to feel her presence, the warmth of her body. But not yet close enough to touch. “Come to bed.”  
  
Softly, he shakes his head. “Not yet.”  
  
Jyn breathes in deeply, the night air tasting of salt. Giving him space to breathe is important, but she can no longer endure his silent suffering. She takes a step forward to breach the distance between them, curling her arms around his waist and lacing her fingers against his stomach. With the round of her own stomach between them, she cannot nuzzle into him as closely as she wants, but nonetheless she rests her cheek between his shoulder blades and allows her eyes to flutter shut. 

 

 

“ Talk to me,” she whispers, feeling him tremble against her.  
  
With every inhale and exhale she follows the rise and fall of his chest, ghosts her lips against his spine where she knows metal still holds together what shattered on Scarif when he fell.  
  
“ I'm terrified, Jyn,” he admits then, a shuddering sigh that trembles and quakes, the sound of it choked with tears he cannot shed. “I'm-”  
  
He silences himself with a frustrated grunt. Sinks his head and rounds his shoulders in what Jyn can only assume is shame.   
  
“ So am I,” Jyn whispers in response, holding onto him a little tighter now. Sometimes the fear paralyzes her, and he must know he's not alone. “But I know we'll figure it out. We'll find a way.”  
  
She pulls away from Cassian just enough to steer him around, hands firm at his sides. He follows willingly, looks down at her with a mournful expression. Forcing herself to offer him an encouraging smile, Jyn takes one of his hands and places it on the swell of her stomach. “She'll show us the way.”  
  
Ever so gently, he smooths his hands over the silky material of her nightgown, but then her words register and he pauses. “She?” he repeats quietly, wonder evident in his voice.   
  
Jyn nods.   
  
“ How do you know?”  
  
She doesn't know how to answer that question, how she can be so sure.  
  
“ I just do,” she explains with a light shrug, resting her hand on top of Cassian's. “Did you want a boy?”  
  
As he rests his forehead against hers and breathes her in, a smile ghosts over his face.  
  
“ It doesn't matter,” he murmurs, his free hand pressing into her side tenderly. “Not to me.”  


 

* * *

  
  
Some nights, she still sees the man in white. He floats across the fields that stretch around their house, claws her baby from her arms as she is immobile, petrified. Screaming a silent scream.  
  
Cassian is there, bleeding out against the white sand. Eyes wide open, almost surprised.  
  
She screams and screams and wakes to Cassian gently stirring her, pearls of sweat on her brow that he brushes away with the pad of his thumb.  
  
Krennic is dead, he has to be. He died on Scarif, she knows that. But now more than ever she wishes Cassian wouldn't have pulled her back that day. That he'd let her pull the trigger and give herself the closure she so desperately needed.  
  
"It was just a dream," Cassian breathes into the darkness, pulling her tremor-wrecked body against his. Lips ghosting over the base of her skull. "Just a dream."  
  
He never promises her that everything is fine, that they're safe. Not after they both learned too brutally that promises like that cannot be kept.  
  
Instead, he rests his hand against the swell of her stomach, feels their baby move beneath his palm. Just as restless as she is for a while until sleep claims them all again.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Fear of the birth comes late, but when it does overtake her, it's jarring. She is no stranger to pain, has endured so much already.  
  
But the thought if it, of everything that could go wrong, keeps her awake at night almost as much as the discomfort of being so very pregnant.  
  
Day after day, she waits for the signs, impatiently roaming around the house. Fiddling with the crib and the blankets and the tiny clothes.  
  
Cassian tries his best to calm her, massaging her aching back and feet, brushing her hair, kissing her temple, reading to her in his native language - the sound of it so melodic and soothing, even though she hardly understands a word.  
  


  
  
It takes so much longer than she anticipated. From the first phantom aches until she feels like she's being torn apart, a whole day passes. The sun rises across the sky, birds singing as Jyn waits and breathes through each new wave of pain.  
  
“ Tell me how to help,” Cassian pleads, his hands encasing hers. But Jyn can only shake her head.  
  
There's nothing he can do.  
  
“ Just,” she presses through gritted teeth, “just stay.”  
  
His lips find her cheek. “Always,” he breathes. “All the way.”  
  


  
  
In the afternoon, dark clouds begin to roll in and the heat that has her clothes sticking to her slick skin finally grows more manageable.  
  
Cassian pulls open all the windows for her, the mild breeze carrying the scent of rain. Thick and comforting, and she inhales it every time she tries to breathe through the pain and bite back a scream. How many times in her life has she done that? Remained quiet as her body burned and blistered and bled?  
  
It's harder now than ever before.  
  
“ Don't,” Cassian tells her, running a damp cloth over her forehead where pearls of sweat adorn her reddened skin. “Don't hold it in.”  
  
She whimpers instead, the sound lost as the first thunder roars in the distance.  
  
It's almost surreal, the way the thunder grows louder and louder as her pain grows worse. She had thought there'd be no more, that she couldn't possibly endure more.  
  
But she can, she has to.  
  
Fingers curl into the sheets so hard that her knuckles push through. But no matter how hard she tries, no matter how much she pushes or how loud she screams, it never seems like enough.   
  
“ I don't want to anymore,” she almost pleads, tasting blood on her tongue as lightning flashes through the air, illuminating the room that has been cloaked in darkness. “I don't want to.”  
  
There is no turning back now, no chance to run - and hasn't she stopped running long ago?   
  


  
  
The first cry that tears through the air is loud enough to drown out the thunder, high pitched and miserable - the most beautiful sound Jyn has ever heard. Weak, exhausted, tired to the bone she reaches out, begs for Cassian to hand their little girl to her.  
  
Tears trail down his cheeks as he does, his hands bloody, but _Force_ the way he smiles.  
  
The pain is forgotten when Jyn cradles her daughter against her bare chest, warm and so, so small. Minuscule fingers and toes, full lips and a dusting of dark hair. Calming in her arms as Cassian wraps his arms around her.  
  
He whispers something unintelligible, but she can feel the words deep in her heart. Softly, she runs a fingers across their daughter's cheek, marveling at such beauty.  
  
“Look at her,” she breathes, her voice hoarse and thick with tears that spill from her eyes.  
  
Cassian's lips - wet from his own tears - find her temple. “I know,” he murmurs, and Jyn can feel his smile against her skin. “I know.”  


 

* * *

She awakes to an empty bed, her heart leaping in her chest. Gulping down the fresh air that fills the room through the open window, she slowly calms down.  
  
Running her hand across the wrinkled sheets next to her, she finds comfort in the remnants of body heat she can still feel in the fabric. Blinking, her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, silhouettes coming into view.  
  
The floor beneath her bare feet is cold as Jyn moves out of bed, the thin fabric of her sleep pants fluttering around her legs, the hem kissing the ground. Slow, measured steps lead her across the house and towards the back door - wide open with the curtains dancing in the breeze carried over by the sea.  
  
It rushes across the hill, trees rustling in the night, the moon full and round against the black ink canvas of the sky.  
  
Cassian is sitting on the swing attached to the roof above, rocking slightly back and forth.  
  
Against his chest, he has cradled their daughter, sitting on his legs, bare feet dangling in the air and chubby cheeks pale in the moonlight. She's wide awake, has her little hands curled into her father's shirt. Listening as he hums to her in his native tongue.  
  
Jyn doesn't know what the lullaby is about, but she cherishes the sound of it all the same. A smile curls her lips and she leans against the door frame, allowing strands of her hair to tickle her face and the sight of her family soothe her.  
  
The moment is too precious to disturb and so she remains quiet, drinks in all the happiness she never believed she could feel once. Even after all this time it feels surreal, overwhelming, and to accept it as entirely her own is a challenge most days.  
  
Her little girl, ever alert and curious, spots her a minute later, her hand reaching out. "Mama," she calls, conjuring an easy smile onto Jyn's lips.  
  
She'll never tire of hearing her daughter's sweet voice, of running her fingers through the thick, dark curls of her hair, of cradling her against her breast as Cassian pulls her into an embrace.  
  
Force, she is growing so fast. Close to taking the very first steps of her own, still unsteady on her wobbly legs, fingers firmly clutching her father’s. Jyn mourns feeding her at her own breast, rocking her to sleep night after night, humming sweet nothings.  
  
Time moves fast and without mercy, and as Jyn rests her head against Cassian's chest and presses her lips to their daughter’s silky soft hair, she allows herself to hold onto this moment for a while. The moonlight bathing them, the sea serenading them, the mild breeze tickling them.  
  
It makes it easy, for a heartbeat, to imagine the wheels of time slowing down. Just a bit. Just for them. Just for now.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Their little girl laughs as she moves through the field of flowers. Brightly colored and delicately shaped petals, grass as soft as feathers growing tall enough to nearly hide her away from their eyes. But never quite enough, they make sure of that. Make sure to keep up with her.  
  
She dances. Up, up, up the hill, twirling.  
  
Dark hair flutters in the breeze - the air carries the scent of salt. Jyn takes a deep breath, inhaling it until her battered lungs feel clean.  
  
Her daughter's dress is the shade of the night sky, fibers of silver woven delicately into the fabric. Shimmering as they catch the light.  
  
_ Stardust. _   
  
Jyn now understands how her father loved her. Why he did what he did and how much he must have suffered. With a sigh, she leans into Cassian. He smiles down at her, pressing a kiss to her temple as his hand rests on the swell of her stomach.  
  
Together, they watch their little girl stop at the slope of a hill. They observe with pride in their eyes as she bends down to pick a flower - round petals in a joyous shade of yellow.  
  
A smile paints her face as she tucks it behind her ear. She turns to face them and smiles even brighter.  
  
"Come on, Papa!" she calls, voice as sweet as the first birdsong after a long, bleak winter, reaching out a small hand. "Hurry!"  
  
“You're too fast for us, Vida,” Cassian laughs softly, quickening his steps as much as he can. His back has been giving him more trouble lately, but he bites away the pain as they catch up with their daughter and he takes her hand.  
  
A seashell bracelet dangles from a small wrist. Shimmering.   
  
Together, the three of them slowly make their way down the hill towards the white sand of the beach, grass tickling bare legs and hair dancing in the wind.  
  
_ If you found a place in the galaxy untouched by war - a quiet life, maybe with a family - if you're  _ happy _ , Jyn, then that's more than enough. _   
  
For a decade, the words have haunted Jyn. Replayed and echoed in her mind from the moment she saw her father's hologram speak them until now that she holds everything dear to her in the palm of her hand. Now that the fight inside of her has come to an end, now that the smoke has settled and life began to sprout from the ashes that remained.  
  
"What is it?" Cassian asks quietly, his words mingling with their daughter's sweet humming song.   
  
Jyn just smiles.  
  
"Nothing," she whispers, leaning up to press her lips to his cheek and chase away all doubt. "I promise."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this story. I am so grateful for all your kind words, joining a new fandom and writing for new characters is always stressful but you made me feel like I did things right with this story. I hope you all enjoyed the ending and I would love to hear your thoughts ❤


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